


Bad Boys

by Jennypen



Series: Growing Boys [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Abandonment, Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Autofellatio, Bondage, Breathplay, Bukkake, Double Anal Penetration, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, Group Sex, Latex, M/M, Master/Pet, Overly careful tagging just in case, Rape tag is up there as an umbrella for the dub con, Semi-Public Sex, Sensory Deprivation, Sex Club, Size Difference, Spitroasting, Suspension, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism, god whatever kinks strike me are going in this, simulated glory hole, stay safe, vacuum bed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-08-20 02:42:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 37,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8233240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennypen/pseuds/Jennypen
Summary: Shiro just wanted a change. After a series of unsatisfying trysts, he was struggling to find anyone to explore his needs. Desperate, he turns to a sex club, and finds the answer to all of his fevered dreams.Prequel to Good Boys, with a much darker tone. There be monsters here.





	1. Prologue

Masks are designed to deceive. Regardless of intent - to hide an identity, or feelings, the result is the same. The outside world sees the facade - inside, the true self is hidden. Protected.

When Shiro put the mask on, his real self was on the outside.

Tying the soft ribbon strap behind his head with practised ease, he slid his fingers around the front and brushed over the leather surface. It was a snug fit, and though there was no mirror for him to reflect on his appearance, the countless trial runs he’d done at home for this, its first real-life test, meant that his image was burned into his mind. He refrained from instinctively running a hand through his slicked-back hair, remembering last moment that the boot polish would stain his hands. Instead, he adjusted his collar and bow tie for the umpteenth time, pulled on a set of leather gloves, stood straighter, and emerged from the alleyway.

The warehouse loomed ahead, quiet. The fading light meant that the few approaching figures, all moving in the same direction as Shiro, were difficult to make out - like him, they wore black, made otherworldly darker in the evening shadows. Puffed out skirts and clean shoulder lines looked almost fae, and Shiro was filled with a heady sense of excitement, quashing down the slight trembling he felt.

He needed a change.

The preparation for tonight had been more meticulous than anything he’d done in his life - his undergrad thesis had taken less time, it felt like. Anxiety over his appearance had led to him going overboard with a razor, and the sensation of hair-free skin rubbing against the fine material of his tuxedo was a pleasant surprise. The gloves were warm and obscenely comfortable, but beneath his coat they rode up beyond his wrist, showing no skin. They had cost more than the tuxedo hire, but for the reassurance they gave him, they were worth far more. 

Dress code was simple - black tie with mask. After that was anyone’s guess, but he was certain from the literature and list of acceptable and unacceptable behaviour sent to him that should all he wish to do was watch, that would be permitted. Part of the admission price included a combination locker pre-programmed with his date of birth should he wish to undress and engage. All consumables were provided, so he need bring as little as possible, but there had been a long list of acceptable hygiene standards if he’d wished to bring any toys or equipment.

Shiro had nothing except his invite. 

The light from the doorway spilled out as he approached, brightening every few seconds as more people were admitted ahead of him. He walked with purpose, his old hand in his pocket, knowing his prosthetic wouldn’t give his nerves away. A burly man at least a head taller than Shiro himself stood impassive at the door. Shiro had his invite in his hand, but the man merely flicked his gaze to see Shiro had it, then gave the tiniest nod of his head to steer Shiro inside. Shiro stepped around him, took a hold of the heavy door handle, and paused for a second. 

_Breathe_.

The door swung open, and he was inside.

A long, dimly-lit corridor lay ahead of him - those who had gone before him moving away from him faster than he was walking. He followed, the muted rhythmic thumping of a bassline seeping through the walls naturally pulling him up to a slightly faster pace. His hand still held the invite, and he was relieved for both the gloves and his prosthetic, as it would no doubt be curled and wrinkled with nervous sweat by now. It was hard to tell if nerves or excitement fuelled him more.

Around a corner; a tall desk in cut marble. A stunningly beautiful woman stood behind it, glitter sparkling on a ruby mask. Red lips curved in a knowing smile, and she elegantly accepted Shiro’s invitation with chubby hands, brushing her fingers over the surface of his glove as she did. Her pupils widened, and she smiled further.

“Oh, those are _nice_ ,” she purred. “I wouldn’t say no to a set of those. In more ways than one,” she grinned, as an afterthought. Shiro caught her meaning and politely returned her smile. She studied him for a moment. “Here’s hoping the other boys feel the same,” she said, and he marvelled.

“Or anyone at all,” he corrected. This seemed to please her, and she turned her eyes down to examine his invite.

“Perfect. You’ve read the house rules?”

“Yes,” Shiro answered.

“Good boy. Go to the top of the class.” For a moment he had a split-second panic that she had made his identity, but forced himself to calm down; it was just a turn of phrase. “It’s always unpleasant when people misbehave. Well,” she considered, catching herself, “Not all bad behaviour is misbehaving. Some is encouraged.” She took a deep breath, as if preparing herself.

“Some basics - lockers are just down here and to the right. Bathrooms on each floor - ones posted with red signs are for bathroom functions only, ones posted with blue signs are fun bathrooms. Anyone engaging in acts beyond the ablutionary in red bathrooms will be asked to leave, but anything is permitted in blue bathrooms.

“Floors one and two are for all genders together. Men are not permitted on floor three and likewise, women are not permitted on floor four. Please respect this - as we cater to people from all walks of life with complex philias and phobias and histories, we ask for sensitivity from all of our clients. If there are any areas which are excluded from your specific gender identity, it is for the safety and comfort of those inside.” Shiro nodded in understanding. There was something about this in the rules - the establishment seemed very eager to set firm lines regarding boundaries.

“Please, if you do not mind, would you be happy to disclose your preference for partners? We have a wristband system.”

Shiro was listening intently, impressed, and it took him a moment to realise he’d been asked a question. "Oh! Sorry, yes, um, men and women. Wait.” He paused a moment, mind suddenly exploding into motion. “...maybe just men, tonight,” he said with finality, and she nodded. She reached under the desk and pulled out a purple rubber glow-stick ring. There was a tiny series of digits on it, and a barcode. She noted his ticket number and wristband number on her tablet. “Purple for those seeking specifically male company, green for those seeking specifically female, red for those with no preference. If you require anything more specialised, we have services to cater. Are you here with a master or pet?”

“No...” Shiro answered, eyebrows raising.

“Alright. If you see anyone with a blue wristband, they’re here in a pet capacity and are open to liasons. A corresponding master should be nearby - the general code of conduct is to touch the blue wristband to signal intention, and the master should be present. Please do not approach anyone with a black wristband - they are not seeking to engage. There are dozens of private rooms - please explore in your own. Are these clear?”

“Yes,” Shiro answered, determined. 

“Good,” she said approvingly. “There is a bar on each floor for drinks, all forms of water are included in your price. Please show your wristband - it’s linked to your tab. First $40 is included in your entry fee; anything after that will be charged to your credit card after the event. Lastly, there is a small locker, drawer or stand attached to each piece of equipment - you’ll find protection and lubricant. These are mandatory and non-negotiable. There’s also a liquid latex station on each floor. Is all of that clear?”

Shiro did a double take. “Uh, yeah?”

She giggled. “You’re cute. You’re gonna have fun. Go blow your mind, gorgeous.”

He mumbled a soft thanks, and walked towards the door she indicated earlier. He had nothing he wanted to put in a locker, so instead he headed straight for the auspicious purple curtain. The rundown of the rules had hinted at so many delights that he was half-hard - Shiro took a breath, willing his erection to go down so he didn’t make an embarrassing first impression. Someone else brushed past him, flashing a smile, and went in ahead. When they pulled open the curtain, a woman’s unmistakeable moan floated out, and he gave up on the idea of him ever being soft while he was there. Shiro steeled himself, and opened the curtain. 

He’d wanted a new beginning; a change in his life. He had no idea just how big that change was going to be.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay - exhausting week! Thanks for all the kind words :)

“So, a whole month down already. Haven’t wanted to run away screaming yet?”

Keith smirked in response. “No, thanks for asking, I haven’t.” He took a sip of his tea and frowned at it, finding it in some way distasteful that Shiro did not yet understand. “It’s fine, I guess. The work is the easiest part of it, I think. I’m keeping on top of things so far.”

Shiro nodded. He had had every faith that would be the case. Bracing himself, he asked the next most obvious question, already knowing the answer but it would have been remiss of him to not at least try.

“Made any friends?”

Keith scowled and Shiro winced inside, trying bravely to maintain the illusion of a blithe smile.

“What are you, my mom? I mean, I guess not, since she’s nonexistent and you’re not, but-“

“Keith,” Shiro tried, sighing. Keith caught a hold of his anger and reined it in, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking a few calming breaths.

“Sorry. That was... out of order.”

“Yup,” Shiro said patiently.

“...no, I have not made any friends yet,” Keith said slowly, enunciating each syllable. “I didn’t know it was a course requirement.” His tone was petty; defensive. When Shiro had met him on his first day, it had been like sailing up to Alcatraz on a foggy night - he’d never met anyone so isolated or guarded in all his life. Keith’s run through the fostering system had been troubling, and in his eyes shone a desperate need to prove himself. 

Shiro could identify with that particular need, but after graduating summa cum laude and walking straight into a postgrad grant and part-time TA job, he’d filled that particular niche enough for himself. Now, he could relax, and indulge himself.

Keith was at the very beginning of that particular arc in his life. He’d relaxed a little since his first week, realising he was safe and could settle, but he had a long way to go.

“It’s not,” Shiro said. “Some people would say it’s a life requirement but I think it’s more a byproduct. Your class is pretty big, right? I’ll be assisting Coran from next semester but he said it was a large intake. Forgive the honesty, but you’re a good looking guy, Keith.” Keith went a hot pink at the compliment, so Shiro carried on, feeling a little mean. “I can’t believe no-one has propositioned you, wanted or unwanted. It’s been a whole month.”

This was a slightly cruel topic of conversation to go down. Keith’s crush on Shiro was both blatant and hopeless - Keith was gorgeous, earnest, passionate and totally off limits. He’d been betrayed and abandoned by almost every adult figure in his life thus far - he’d come to the university by way of a charity scholarship, and part of that scholarship was to match the student with a mentor to induct them. Shiro himself was a successful product of the program and a mentor of his own - though no longer at the university, Allura had been instrumental in his adapting to college life.

He’d had a dreadfully immature crush on her, too.

It was natural. There was even a line in the training pack for mentors about how common it was. It was a shame - if not for that, Shiro would’ve probably asked Keith out the first minute he’d met him. It was for the best, though - Keith didn’t need to take on any more issues than his own, and Shiro had far more than he was even willing to admit to himself. Neither of them were in any sort of place where a relationship would have been anything but an unmitigated disaster and Keith really didn’t need any more disasters in his life.

Keith scowled. “No.” Shiro waited; there was more answer than that in Keith’s eyes. He wasn’t disappointed. “Well, one, but he didn’t mean it.”

“Whoever it was, he probably did-“

“ _No_ , Keith answered, firmer. “He’s just like that. Can we leave it? Please. I’m fine. He’s an asshole, I wouldn’t lower myself.” 

Shiro’s eyes narrowed at Keith. “Okay, buddy. Uhm... besides that though?”

“I don’t... I’m here to learn.”

‘I don’t know how’, was what Keith really meant. Shiro’s heart ached for him - unfortunately, he was just going to have to develop a new skillset, and there was little he could do about it. It was a learning curve. Someone would get there eventually. 

“Coran says you aced the first tests.”

Keith brightened a little. “Yeah, I did okay. Second-highest in the class.”

“Whoa!” Shiro said, beaming with pride. He lifted a hand and ruffled Keith’s enormous mop of hair, pleased with how it felt under his fingers. Keith’s expression warmed. “Nicely done. Knew you had it in you. Feel sorry for whoever beat you, though, they’re getting a false sense of security to start off with.” The smile disappeared again, Keith’s lips forming a thin line.

“Yeah,” he said tersely. “I’ll beat him next time.”

“I’m sure you will,” Shiro replied, not quite sure this was the right thing to say, but not really knowing what else he could add. Keith was fiercely independent, a product of his upbringing, and once he was irritated it was difficult to bring him back down without a total distraction.

“Soooooo, uhm...”

“What about you?”

The question blindsided him. “I’m sorry?”

“Are you seeing anyone?”

The question was direct, and more complicated than Keith could understand. Shiro’s heart sank, in that nauseating, painful way it can only when you’ve been asked about a sensitive subject. “Uh... not really.” That wasn’t entirely true - he had a date later that evening, but he wasn’t holding out much hope. Thankfully, for once, Keith picked up on the cue enough to know to back off.

“Right, sorry, none of my business.”

“No, I just - it’s not something I’m comfortable talking about, I’m sorry. Hypocrite over here,” he said, in a slightly rakish tone. Keith, thankfully, took the offered olive branch and chuckled.

“Oh yeah, the worst alive.”

Shiro took a swig of the dregs his mocha and made a face - it had long-since gone cold. He stole a quick glance at his watch and sighed. “I gotta head off, actually,” he apologised, “Got a thing I need to get ready for. Did you need help with anything?”

“A date?”

Shiro’s face fell blank with confusion. “You... need help with a date? Keith, I-“

Keith actually put his head in his hands. “Jesus Shiro, for a smart guy you can be really dense sometimes. No, I meant, are you going on a date?”

The flush that crept up Shiro’s cheeks happened so fast that he felt the heat of it. “Oh! Yeah, I think so.” That really wasn’t the answer Keith was expecting, and his brows furrowed together.

“You... don’t... think so?”

“I am! I mean... it’s just a coffee, I’m not expecting the world.”

Keith paused, accepting that answer. “You know, with all the people who threw themselves at you in welcome week, I figured you were seeing someone and that’s why you weren’t interested.”

“...And we’re back again to I don’t want to talk about it,” Shiro gently admonished, and Keith threw up his hands as an apology.

“Sorry, line, drawn, me on the right side I promise,” he said, and Shiro huffed a laugh. 

“Uh-huh. Maybe some day when I know what the hell is going on with my own love life I can actually talk to someone else about it,” he mused. “Anyway, I definitely gotta get going.” He stood, and Keith did at the same time, walking out of the cafeteria together.

“Next week?” Keith asked, already turning to head back towards the dorms.

“You got it. Text me if you need anything before then, okay?” Shiro asked.

“Sure. Enjoy your... maybe-date.” 

That got a solid laugh from Shiro. “I’ll try,” he said, waving Keith goodbye.

* * *

He tried, he really did. She was funny, the kind of whip-smart funny where you’re laughing before you’ve fully processed what they’ve said, but ultimately it was futile - barely half an hour in, and she asked the question that led to _the Face_.

“So - I gotta ask, because it’s a little elephant in the room,” (and Shiro had winced inside, already feeling the atmosphere cool) “Why the arm?”

They’d had a good instant rapport and had been laughing at something entirely inappropriately filthy, and obviously she felt she’d hit the required conversation level to ask. Shiro hated it when people asked because he hated the answer. He hated what it did to people. He hated how it changed their entire dynamic. One of the reasons he found Keith easy to get along with was Keith had never yet asked. He hoped he never did ask.

“Cyborg fetish,” he had answered, hoping she would take the flippant answer and understand it was a warning that he did not want to discuss it. She’d laughed, and for a brief moment he hoped, but then he saw the curiosity burning in her eyes and known it was futile.

“Nice. But seriously, how does a college kid lose an arm? Were you born without it, or...?”

“Cancer,” Shiro had answered after a heartbeat, and she had made the Face.

The ‘Oh you poor thing’ face.

The ‘Oh he’s got a tragic~ past’ face.

The ‘I suddenly have no fucking idea what to say’ face.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry,” she had said, and he had closed down, knowing the rest of the date was a waste of time. He had changed in her eyes - no longer someone to respect, but someone to pity, to treat gently. Of all the things Shiro wanted out a relationship, he’d learned that gentility was last on his list.

The date had limped along for another little while, but he hadn’t lingered, walking her home through conversation that was pronouncedly stilted, and had politely said goodbye, ignoring her offer to come up to her apartment.

With her it would have been nice - soft, gentle. Shiro didn’t want gentle.

Shiro wanted hard, and he wasn’t getting it. 

When he got home, he slammed the door behind him in a fit of uncharacteristic anger. He hated the Face. He hated how people saw him. His last three relationships had all been disastrous - every single one of them had had their own image of who he was, and he couldn’t even begin to discuss his own desires and needs - any time he’d tried it had gone down like a lead balloon. His last boyfriend, if even he could have been called that, had been horrified when Shiro had tried to open the conversation to try out some light role-play, telling him that he felt like he didn’t know Shiro at all. On reflection, Shiro realised it was that they all had this image of him as something sad, something broken and needing caring for, and couldn’t reconcile that with the actual man Shiro was.

It had taken Shiro a long time to accept the man he felt he was - he needed to try, to be that man and understand it.

God, he just wanted to fuck the living daylights out of someone - brutally, unapologetically, until they were mindless and spent.

Still riled up on that thought, he lost control briefly and used his prosthetic arm to punch the wall, putting a crack in the plaster but thankfully not damaging the prosthetic too badly. Panting hard, he shook for a moment as his frustration seeped out. He took a few deep, steadying breaths and shook his head, cracking the joints on either side and letting the tension go.

A short while later, he found himself in bed, sitting on his laptop, staring idly at the screen, daydreaming slightly. 

Several failed relationships and abysmal dates down the line, Shiro was learning that he was not going to find satisfaction with how he was operating - something had to change, and he had to open up. He opened up a browser tab and, cheeks burning, typed ‘sex club’ followed by his local area, relieved he’d moved off-campus and was no longer bound by University IT Policy.

There were more results than he was expecting, before he remembered there was a suburb in LA with the same name. He added his state code, and the results narrowed significantly. 

There were three sponsored results but he scrolled to the top actual result - ‘The Galra’ - and clicked on it, not knowing quite what to expect.

What he saw took his breath away. Beyond a tasteful logo of a masquerade ball mask, there were photos of rooms, full of equipment and devoid of people, but it took no stretch of the imagination to picture it all in use. He felt a pooling of heat in his gut as the images flooded his brain, debauched sounds echoing in his mind. Just the thought of it - of gracing the shadows to watch others _en flagrante_ was beyond arousing.

This... felt right. Here, he’d be able to fulfil his needs, to find those likeminded enough to explore that untouched side of himself.

Internally flicking a switch from curious to decided, Shiro clicked on the tab marked ‘The Rules’ and began to read. By the time he’d finshed reading, his mind had been made up, and he was already pulling his credit card out of his wallet to purchase a ticket for the next available event - a week from Sunday.

It occurred to him later that perhaps, he should have felt some level of shame, but even the slightest thought of this place curled like fire in his belly, hot and _wanting_.

Nothing had ever felt so right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You go get some, Shiro. You do you. Also, see Lance making a guest annoyance, causing trouble without even being around. Typical.


	3. Chapter 3

_Inside The Galra_

It was better than he’d imagined - on an entirely different scale, in fact. The low, thrumming bass sounds that had filtered through the walls to the hallway outside were not much clearer once he got in the door - designed to cancel out the high-pitched noise inside. It did so admirably, meaning Shiro was not immediately overwhelmed with what should have been a cacophany - everywhere, in every direction, as far as he could see, people were fucking.

The first he noticed, actually noticed, was the most subtle - a woman with a flared skirt, complete with bustle, undulating softly in a leather booth. It took a moment for him to spot the second set of shoes in between her own - the enormous and elaborate costume she wore completely blocked her paramour from view. Her face gave her away, however; mouth slack, her eyes met Shiro’s briefly before she tilted her head back, closed her eyes and let out a moan that went straight to Shiro’s belly and curled lower.

Few others were as discreet. He kept moving, too new and lacking understanding of the etiquette to hover in any one place for long. His heart was beating hard in his chest, but his blood pooled in his groin as he took in more of the room around him - a woman spitroasted between two men but astride a third, visible only from the neck down as he buried his face up into her thighs. As Shiro felt he was staring too long, he turned and noticed last second that one of the men was also spread over the third on the floor, grinding distinctively.

It was hard to believe it was all actually happening around him - Shiro was twenty-three years old and hardly naive, but there was just so _much_ of it happening all at once - it was a rude awakening of the best kind. He was so hard it physically hurt, and he was burning to touch himself, to come, just to take the edge off. He swore softly under his breath, worrying at his lip. 

It appeared there was no convention on conduct - some people watched, some engaged, all in various states of undress. All wore masks, like Shiro - some ornate but most simple black. He could pick out the bracelets now - the light from them was soft enough that they weren’t distracting or gaudy, just subtle enough that you had to look to see. His own was glowing gently in the dim room, quietly broadcasting his interests.

No-one approached him.

At first, that was okay - he was, after all, still learning. He probably looked somewhat like a lost lamb. He fetched a drink at the bar and willed himself calm, finding a comfortable corner seat to watch. Several feet away, a man sat as he did, just watching. Shiro followed his gaze to see two women together. The man’s hand dipped inside his pants, pulling himself free to stroke, and Shiro looked away. 

It struck Shiro, then, that for everything happening around him, none of it was... interesting. Hot, yes, but missing something. For a room so utterly filled with carnal pleasure, there was precious little depravity - it was all good, clean fun. He swept his eyes over the room again and spotted for the first time that it was just people - none of the empty equipment he’d seen online was in the room. He frowned, sipping his drink.

“Everything alright, newbie?” A voice from behind him; the girl who had served him his drink and winked at him when she’d scanned his wristband was looking knowingly at him. He briefly wondered how obviously out of his depth he looked, then remembered she probably saw his tab was brand new when she scanned his wristband. At least that explained the wink. There was a lull in activity at the bar, and she was leaning over it so he could hear her.

“Uhm... I’m a bit... it’s not what I expected,” he said. She raised an eyebrow, then a crooked grin curved her cheeks.

“Vanilla not doing it for you, honey?” She asked, and he felt his cheeks colour. 

“It’s not that vanilla,” he said awkwardly, gesturing to a group of seven standing men in a circle around a kneeling woman, mouth open wide, just a few paces away from the bar. 

She giggled. “‘Not that vanilla’ is probably the best version of ‘still kinda lame’ I’ve ever heard.”

“No! It’s not that, it’s just...”

“...Just not kinky enough for you?” she asked.

“...Kinda...” Shiro admitted slowly, and she laughed.

“Kinky shit’s upstairs.” She flicked a glance at his wristband. “Ooh, purple boy. You might as well skip up to the top floor. On my girl days I work down here, but on my boy days I work that floor, this is baby stuff next to that.” Shiro deciphered her words, suddenly understanding what she- no, they, he adjusted mentally- meant. “Elevator’s over there,” they pointed. “Take a left when you get out - gay vanilla shit’s on the right, gay kinky shit’s is on the left. There’re usually a few blue bands roaming around that floor, so if you’re finding yourself a bit shy for anything else you can always go find one of those and see what they’re up for. There’s a new one up there tonight, I heard.”

It took Shiro a moment to understand - then it came to him. Blue bands - pets. _Pets_. He was still reeling from the idea that people did that in real life, but far be it from him to judge. 

He nodded mutely, not quite able to formulate an adequate response, but his face must have expressed his feelings as they smiled wider and shooed him in the direction they’d pointed. He did as he was told, finding the elevator with ease.

A minute later, barely enough time to decide if it was excitement or anxiety making him shake, the elevator made a muted bing, and the doors opened.

Instantly, the atmosphere was something else entirely. He took the advised left and followed down a corridor, passing a few figures who gave him lingering looks. The music and lighting were markedly different to the ground floor - the music more driving, the lighting a more purple hue than the ground floor. The corridor widened out into a room, and Shiro was immediately grateful to the bartender downstairs - they’d been right on the money with this. 

The room was filled with people - some naked, some not. Several of those naked wore a blue band on their wrist, and all of these were on their knees in some manner - mostly oral service, with a few exceptions. Almost all wore a collar attached to a leash held by a corresponding fully-dressed man - pets, and masters. ‘Fucking _hell_ ,’ Shiro thought, pupils wide in the low light, drinking in the scene. For those without pets, most of the attention was aimed at the centre of the room, and when Shiro finally tore his eyes off one pale, wide-mouthed pet, he saw why.

Clearly designed for a show, the room was made up of tiered benches and seats arranged around a cirle of clear floor in the middle. The crowd shifted a little and Shiro took a seat, utterly drawn by the spectacle.

It was a pet, blue wristband obvious in the slightly brighter light aimed at him. He was young, younger than Shiro, probably only barely skimming over the club’s hard-lined 18+ vetting check; skinny, but tall and long-limbed, bronze skin shimmering with a layer of body glitter. His wrists were bound with rope to the handles of a brown leather pommel horse, its height lowered enough that it forced him to bend over, ass invitingly turned upwards. He was blindfolded, the black covering overly-large, blocking half of his face so little but his mouth could be seen, but his grin would have been visible from half a mile away.

He was the most beautiful thing Shiro had ever seen in his life.

He swallowed hard, letting his hand palm over his lap, spreading his legs slightly to give himself a little more room. He found himself focusing on the details, trying to absorb every tiny thing - how the guy put his weight on the balls of his feet so he was tipped forward just a fraction to accentuate the curve of his back, how sinfully long and slim his legs were, how his Adam’s apple quivered in his throat, giving away the fact that his confident pose was perhaps somewhat of a front.

The bartender downstairs had mentioned a new pet - given how lazily comfortable the few blue-banded men in the crowd were, it was fairly safe to assume this was what they were referring to.

As he watched, a man approached the centre - taller than Shiro with broad shoulders, well-built, once-black hair flecked with silver streaks. Shiro would’ve guessed he was mid-forties - impossible to tell, Shiro was guessing at best - but he carried himself with a fluid ease that was instantly attractive. He wore a showy black mask with rings of purple around the eyes, and a suit that even Shiro, ignorant of these things, could tell was expensive as hell. Power radiated from him, and Shiro was at once envious and admiring.

The noise in the room lowered a little as anticipation built. The man stepped around to the front of the pommel horse, extending a hand to cradle the boy’s chin and cheek. Shiro saw the boy swallow, and a wave of pleasure rippled through him all the way to his toes, leaving a more relaxed stance in its wake. 

This was the master, Shiro could see it now - the touch had been a familiar one. The man smiled, leaning down to speak into the boy’s ear. The sound was inaudible from here, but from his position Shiro could see the shape of the word ‘sweetheart’; saw the reaction it got. The boy nodded, licked his lips and stretched his arms a little further back, giving more room ahead of him. The man came around, gracefully ducking under one arm to stand in the space between the boy and the pommel horse, leaning back against it. He unbuttoned his pants, pulling down the zipper with controlled slowness, and exposed himself.

Shiro knew he was a little on the larger size, but this guy put him to shame - or perhaps he was just that turned on, who knew - he was somewhat in proportion with his stature, but his overall largeness was emphasised by the enormous erection he held. He shifted, letting the boy move slightly, to come to him. Delicate lips parted, and a pink tongue darted out to lap hungrily at the head - Shiro suppressed a moan - and then, with a hand guiding him, the boy opened his mouth wide. He’d barely gotten the head onto his tongue before Shiro saw the soft gag, the sharp pull of the muscles in his neck. His master’s expression hardened slightly, but then the bound figure seemed to recover himself and pushed himself forward, taking it deeper, and the older man’s smile returned.

Definitely new to this, Shiro thought - unpracticed, but with enthusiasm to make up for it, and it was a joy to behold. 

He could only just fit it into his mouth, but he was working hard to make up for that - taking every pull back as an opportunity to swirl his tongue around the tip. With his movement limited somewhat by the position, he let himself be directed until the older man was thrusting shallowly, carefully fucking his mouth.

He was gorgeous, back bowed with pleasure, his own cock leaking, dripping down along one of his legs. Shiro was rock hard now, staring at the tiny pucker between his ass cheeks, wondering if the pet being fucked from behind was on the menu. He dipped his left hand into his pants, undoing the button for easier access, and began to softly stroke himself. He was unsure what he would do if he came, and cast a glance either side of him. He was not the only one getting off to the show in front of him - most of the people around him had either tugged down their pants and pulled their shirts up a little, or had stripped completely at some point. Shiro wasn’t quite sure he was quite ready to follow suit, but the anonymity in the crowd was empowering - tongue touching his top lip, he undid his pants the rest of the way and freed himself from his underwear. 

The pet was making noise, now, and Shiro snapped his attention back to them - the older man was pushing him a bit more now. He’d moved one hand up to the side of the oversized blindfold and grabbed the side - belatedly, Shiro realised it had straps at the temples, and whoa, what fucking genius came up with that idea - pulling the boy’s face further along him, forcing himself deeper. Again, there was that slight gagging but this time the master was pleased - he was aiming for it, it seemed. 

He was talking softly at the boy, and though Shiro couldn’t hear it, he could make out by the shape of his lips what he was saying.

‘They’re all watching you, sweet boy,’ he said, and the pet _whimpered_.

He was moving faster, too, drawing pleasured sounds from the shaking pet that were just about the hottest thing Shiro had ever heard come from anyone.

God, Shiro wanted him. Wanted to drag those sounds and more out of him, to see tear tracks down his cheeks as he pushed himself to take all of Shiro at once, to have him swallow every drop Shiro had to give and come back for more. He was so eager, so spirited, that it was a drug to watch - so much so that Shiro almost missed the older man look up into the crowd and look around before locking eyes with Shiro.

Shiro’s hand stilled on himself, shocked at the intensity of his gaze. There was a brief shared moment, and he could feel the eyes of the people nearby on him, but Shiro simply stared back, expression serious as he tried to work out what would happen next.

The man’s face curved into a wicked smile, and he lifted his free hand, crooking a finger at Shiro in a single beckoning motion. It looked like an offer but Shiro understood it as a command, and he rose to his feet before he quite realised what he was doing, helpless in the face of the man’s calm, clear authority.

The whole room was watching him now as he crossed the floor into entirely uncharted territory. Somehow, the man encouraged him to approach the pet from behind, but when Shiro got close, his expression closed up and Shiro understood - ’ _stop_ ’. Shiro did so, but up close he saw what he hadn’t noticed from further away - a little sliver of glistening sheen between his cheeks told him he’d already been prepped - he was ready for this. Perhaps they’d already discussed it, planned it, but Shiro wondered who it was for.

When the man bent to speak to the boy, this time, Shiro could just hear his voice, deep and measured. “You’re making everyone so happy, but you want more, don’t you, my sweet boy?”

Fervent nodding in response, and if it were even possible, Shiro hardened further. He stayed where he was, though, waiting. Wanting.

“Of course you do, precious thing. I’ve got someone here for you - I think he’ll fuck you nicely. You’ll look so good for everyone. Would you like that?”

Shiro watched as long legs bent, weakened with arousal, and heard a whimper. Perhaps this truly was for them both.

“Good boy.” The man leaned sideways, reaching into a small locker next to the pommel horse and pulling out a condom and small bottle of lube, tossing both items at Shiro. The man straightened and stared at Shiro, fixing him with a firm look. Quietly enough that only Shiro, himself and the boy could hear, he said, “He’s been ready for you this whole time. Take him.”

Shiro didn’t hesitate - nodding, he put on the condom, stepped up behind the boy’s ass and laid a reverent hand on it, thumb dipping in between his cheeks and gripping slightly to pull it apart and revealing a wet, loosened hole. The boy wriggled at his touch, pushing his ass up even further, and Shiro was weak. 

It wasn’t often that he found himself frustrated with his lack of dexterity, but everything in him burned to touch.

Shiro cast it aside, awareness of the audience around him falling away. He dragged one fingertip down along the pet’s lower back, right down along and skimming over the soft, wet flesh, slipping inside with ease. A second finger followed quickly. He didn’t look up - he knew the master’s eyes were on him - and wasted no more time. One quick squirt of lube and a spreading stroke later, he took hold of himself and pressed the blunt end of his cock against the offered hole and pushed in.

It glided in effortlessly, the pet mewling with every inch. It was hotter than he’d hoped, slick and perfect - Shiro going slowly enough to let him adjust, and the boy surprised him by pushing himself back until Shiro was fully inside him. Carefully, Shiro grabbed his hips with both hands and started to move, a stuttered moan filling his ears but cut off as the older man jerked him up by his hair and shoved himself down his throat.

It was more than the pet was able to take for a brief moment and he tensed, knuckles white and tightly holding onto the pommel horse handles for dear life. For a second, Shiro slowed, but then the impossibly tight clenching around him stopped as the master pulled back. Again, the boy pushed back against him, and Shiro realised this was all part of the game - he wanted to be pushed, to be used, to be watched, to be _worshipped_.

Shiro was going to give him exactly what he wanted.

The man had both hands yanking hard on the blindfold handles, using them for leverage to pick up into a faster pace. Shiro matched it without warning, copying by gripping the hips under his hands. He braced his feet, tightened his stomach and fucked into wet heat, picking up speed and power until he was slamming into the pet, forcing him further onto his master’s cock. He choked, fully choked for a few seconds, and his master pulled out entirely, letting out a grunt and coming over the boy’s blindfold and mouth. For a single beat, Shiro worried that he’d gone too far, especially when he saw a single tear slide down the boy’s cheek from underneath his blindfold, but his mouth was slack with pleasure and the man looked up at Shiro, smirking with approval.

“Make him come,” the man ordered, and Shiro responded instantly, fucking harder, overly pleased at the rising volume of cries ripped from the boy’s throat as Shiro pounded into him with everything he had. He felt the boy go tense, watched him clamp down on it, and sped up, until he heard his master chuckle.

“You can come now, my sweet boy,” he said softly, and the boy did as he was bid, coming with a scream so singularly raw that it practically picked Shiro up and flung him over the edge. With one last, halting thrust, Shiro came, eyes shut tight.

It took a moment to come back to the room, but when it did, Shiro heard a low murmer of delight in the background - the crowd were pleased. He stared down at the boy’s back as he caught his breath, noticed that the boy’s thighs were shaking badly. Come decorated the floor, trickling down his legs. As Shiro pulled out, slowly, he let out a soft hiss, somewhat unsure what happened next.

Thankfully, the older man knew precisely what he was doing - he produced a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it over to Shiro to clean off with. Shiro didn’t need much - he tied off the condom and tucked himself back in with a cursory wipe, noting that it was silk. He wiped the boy down, being gentle over the slightly puffy skin of his hole, and cleaned down his leg. The shaking had intensified, and when Shiro stood, he saw that the man was kneeling in front of his pet, whispering words into his ear while he cleaned himself from the boy’s blindfold and face. This time, however, Shiro could not discern a single word, but the shaking lessened, so he figured it had to be soothing, something kind perhaps. He loosened the rope holding the boy’s wrists to the pommel horse, and without the support holding him, the boy’s knees went out from under him. He crashed to the floor, and Shiro started forward, but the man was there first, an arm around his shoulders.

“Don’t worry yourself,” he told Shiro. “It’s only normal. Today was his first show, and he was lucky to find someone as gifted as you. I think... perhaps, your first time too?”

Seeing no point in denying it, Shiro nodded. The man smiled. “In that case, you have my respect. Let’s hope you decide to grace us with your presence again,” he added. He supported the boy to standing, and Shiro had been right - he was almost as tall as Shiro himself, lanky as anything. He leaned heavily on his master, seemingly unbothered by the blindfold still being in place.

“Many thanks,” the older man intoned, voice composed as though he hadn’t just spitroasted someone. “Until next time,” he said with a tone that brooked no argument, leading his limping pet off towards a door on the opposite side of the room. The crowd began to slowly disperse, Shiro with them, feeling like he’d had enough of a mindfuck for one evening.

Outside in the cool fresh air, the shock of what he’d done hit him - he could still feel the edge of it, the memory of the sensation of fucking that beautiful pet. It had been beyond his wildest dreams and most fervent hopes - he’d never felt so satisfied. Once far enough away, he pulled off his mask, tucking it into his pocket, keeping it safe for next time. 

Next time. _Holy fuck_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Boy' is used here to differentiate between Lance and The Man - following on from established ages in Good Boys, Lance is 18/19.


	4. Chapter 4

Half a chapter in, Shiro realised he’d been skimming, moving his head and turning the pages without taking in a single word. He shook his head quickly, trying to clear his swirling thoughts, turned back to the start and tried again, half-chewed pen lid rolling between his lips and teeth.

_’Take him.’_

_Perfect, gorgeous brown skin, thighs smooth under his fingertips. Unexpected muscle underneath - but then, he’d held himself up while bent over for quite a while. There had been strength there that Shiro hadn’t expected, but had found all the more arousing. Vigour he wanted to own, to subdue, to have at his mercy._

Shiro was startled slightly out of his reverie by the sound of the pen cap hitting the book with a tiny wet sound. Shiro looked down, mincing a swear (“Oh, shoot!”) as he rubbed the edge of his sleeve to wipe up the few drops of drool from the book, and of course it would be the reference copy he was using. If this was karma for yesterday, he resigned himself to getting precisely nothing useful done today.

Mondays were a free day for Shiro - he had learned to discipline himself into adding things to his reading list over the course of the week and then dedicating his Mondays to reading time. He usually booked out one of the private soundproof booths on the top floor of the library for the day, enjoying the one element of preferential treatment postgrads could reliably command. He could have done it all from home, but somehow he always felt more productive and like an actual masters student when he was in the library. Besides, lost undergrads meeting with the intricacies of the Dewey decimal system for the first time was a spectator’s sport he was loathe to miss out on.

Most of his reading list this week was made up of journal articles, but several had actually managed to make it into new acquisitions, so Shiro had a relatively small pile of books sat on the desk next to his laptop. Not that he was making any headway. He’d been going like this for over an hour - coffee long-since cold in his flask as he looked down at the open book with unfocused eyes, mind already back in a darkened room.

_Straps on his blindfold - all the better to face-fuck him with. He’d put it on knowing that was what was going to happen. Seeing him stretched out in front of Shiro, head tilted and mouth rammed was pure ecstasy. When he gagged Shiro could feel it from inside him, felt him tighten up with that brief moment of fear, that half-second of total panic as his body screamed for stolen air._

Shiro was hard under the table. He’d woken up hard, jerked off in bed still sleep-hazy and again in the shower, but it had barely dulled the aching need which flared back at the lightest thought. Last night, Shiro had desperately memorised everything he could about the boy, to his detriment today - even a fleeting image was enough to derail his concentration. He was losing whole minutes at a time lost in memory, imagination blurring with recollection until something grounded him and pulled him out of it.

So many things were still a mystery. Shiro wondered what his eyes looked like - given his colouring, mostly likely brown and beautiful, as wonderful as the rest of him. He’d been so responsive, so eager. Shiro remembered the shock as the boy had slid backwards to impale himself on Shiro, forcing Shiro to go faster than he’d intended. Shiro had truly been led last night, and by someone who was as new as he was - for a heartbeat, he worried he’d been inadequate, but then he remembered how heavily the boy had been leaning on his master as he’d hobbled away, and Shiro flushed with pride.

He might have been led, but he’d given it his all.

Shiro was still coming to terms with the fact that he’d been inside someone who had not even seen him - casual sex was one thing, entirely anonymous sex had been on another level but fuck, what a turn-on. He didn’t just want it again, he felt a deep-seated ache, something raw and primal, previously untapped but now roaring with desire, with _need_. It wasn’t just the club and the freedom - he wanted that pet again. The master had all but requested it as he’d left - who was Shiro to disregard an opportunity like that? What would it be like, the next time?

The website for The Galra was unsurprisingly blocked by the college IT web controls for unsafe content, so he pulled out his phone and purchased a ticket for the next evening which was a solid month away, in the same location. The confirmation email came in and he gripped his phone a little tighter, stomach light and butterfly-filled.

One evening, one encounter, and Shiro could feel a change - it was almost a tangible thing, tentative and bubble-light. For the first time, he’d felt free to express himself - been accepted and encouraged, been offered pleasure and taken it for himself, given it in return. All he’d wanted was to fuck someone raw, and he’d done exactly that - fucked him until he couldn’t stand, could only limp with assistance. Strange, how one evening could change everything - a single fuck and several mysteries.

The biggest mystery, as far as Shiro was concerned, was who the kid was. The master came across like a sugar daddy - there was so much natural authority about him that he was probably some manner of successful businessman. The pet though... 

The Galra’s adult-only policy was absolute, so much so that Shiro had needed to send two forms of ID to prove his own age; there was less than zero chance the kid was underage, but he couldn’t have been much over the cusp of adulthood. What was a guy like that doing acting as a pet? At that age, Shiro had only just about worked out that his passing interest in boys was more than passing - a far cry from being tied down and used by a much older man; and in front of a crowd hungry to participate, no less.

That thought briefly made Shiro uncomfortable, in retrospect. 

* * *

“How’d your date go?” Keith asked Shiro as they settled into a booth in the campus coffeeshop. Shiro tensed up for a milisecond, and then forced himself to relax.

“Nothing exciting to report,” he said neutrally, hoping his face was in an approximation of that same neutrality, but he could feel the heat creep into his cheeks. He glanced at Keith, who had narrowed his eyes.

“Okay, do I need to kick someone’s ass? Who were they that they didn’t put a big smile on your face?” Shiro snorted, and was about to respond when his brain caught up to Keith’s purposeful pronoun use. It was the first time anyone had ever not made an assumption about his orientation, but then he knew Keith was hopeful and he realised he was going to have to be a little careful.

“No, you don’t have to kick anyone’s ass but I appreciate the thought. You can’t have chemistry with everyone, that would be weird.”

Keith gave him a flat look, and he blushed further. “Shiro, I have never seen you not get along with anyone. You’re like a one-man get-along gang.”

“She didn’t slap me in the middle of a restaurant and insult my kin or anything,” Shiro said with a grin, “We just had coffee and it didn’t go anywhere. It was fine.”

Keith narrowed his eyes and sipped his tea. “You seem pretty chill for someone who had a shit date.”

“Keith, it was nearly a week ago, I’m kind of worried that you think that even a really bad date would affect me for a whole week. We just didn’t click that way, nothing bad happened, I just didn’t-“

“-get laid?”

At this, Shiro’s mind was flooded with images, with remembered sensation, and he found himself cut off. He scowled and shifted slightly in his seat, pursing his lips as he found himself struggling for a response.

“Oooooookay, so there’s that line again and here’s you on the wrong side of it. Again.” He demonstrated the line between their cups on their table.

Keith grimaced, hunkering down his shoulders in a manner reminiscent of a petulant child, which served to break the tension. Shiro chuckled. “Sorry. You just seem a little different today,” Keith muttered.

Shiro stilled; was it that obvious?

“Decent night’s sleep,” he responded, covering his momentary lapse with a timely sip of coffee. “Amazing how the simple things in life are so important.”

“True,” Keith answered, and the moment passed, awkwardness easing away.

“You eating okay?” Shiro asked, and Keith laughed.

“Yeah, I think so,” he answered. “I mean, I’m definitely being a real student and increasing the share value of noodle companies but by now even my roommate knows how to crack an egg in and toss some cooked ham on top. If I wasn’t eating right I think I’d suffer at the gym and that’s going fine.”

“Oh, you’ve been going to the gym?” Shiro was pleased - Keith had a history of aggressive behaviour, unsurprising but still an obstacle to overcome. He was quick to react, which was both a boon and a source of strife, but Shiro felt he was self-aware enough to try to tackle it - this was proof of that.

Keith nodded. “Yeah. It’s free and it’s useful, so why not? Was thinking of trying out Taekkyeon.”

“Aww,” Shiro said, mock-disappointed from behind the rim of his mug. “And there I was thinking you’d follow in my karate footsteps...”

Keith snorted. “I’ll take the cooler option, thanks,” he retorted, eyes playful. Shiro returned his grin. 

“Midterms are coming up in two weeks. How you feeling about those?”

“Fine, I think,” Keith replied, taking a lengthy slurp of tea. “I’ve got the hang of most of it, and...” he trailed off. Shiro waited patiently. “I... kinda joined a study group. The studying part of it is okay, but they sometimes go back and hang out in one of their dorms. I thought about what you said and I realised you were right, and they were looking for a fourth, so...” 

There was a tiny pink tinge to Keith’s face, and Shiro decided not to express his immediate elation. He didn’t want to further embarrass Keith on this testy issue, so instead he just smiled softly. “That’s great,” he said simply. “And if it does turn out that you don’t understand something then they can help, but in the meantime, that’s cool. It’s nice to help other people out, too. What are they like?”

“Oh, well, there’s this big guy called Hunk, he’s the one who invited me. Seems really laid back. He’s doing engineering so we share a lot of classes, he’s pretty cool. Uh, then there’s this girl called Pidge, well, like, her name’s Katie but everyone calls her Pidge. She says her brother was in your year?”

Shiro thought hard, then felt dumb for taking so long to remember. “Katie... Holt?”

“Maybe? I don’t know, she didn’t say his name. She’s... an experience. Like, she’s scary smart but you get the sense she could shank you if you borrowed her charger and didn’t give it back.”

Shiro laughed. “I think she might be Matt’s little sister, I’m sure I remember him mentioning a Katie. If she’s anything like her brother, you’re in good hands.” That was two. “...and?”

“And?” Keith said innocently, but Shiro narrowed his eyes shrewdly - Keith had said he was a fourth, so someone was missing.

“You said there’s four of you, right?”

Keith’s expression darkened, and Shiro frowned. His tone turned to one of annoyance. “Lance,” he spat. Shiro’s eyebrows shot up - Keith was not particularly expressive unless he was riled up about something, and he’d somehow managed to express a myriad of conflicting emotions with one syllable.

“Lance?” He repeated, trying to eke more from Keith.

“Don’t get me started.”

Shiro was quiet for a moment, trying to work out what to do next, when a lightbulb went off in his head. “Is he the guy who came top in the pre-test first rounds?”

Keith’s expression darkened further, and Shiro knew he’d hit a winner. “Yes,” Keith snapped, “And I don’t even know how. Asshole doesn’t even study, just spends the entire study group session getting told to be quiet and then all he does is fiddle with everything. He was making paperclip animals last week and then start using eraser shavngs like grass for them to rest on and meanwhile we’re trying to get stuff done and I have no goddamn idea how he understands anything, he never listens in class. If Coran weren’t so old I’d-“ he cut himself off, red-faced.

“You’d...?”

Keith blushed hotter and he slumped further in his seat, tight-lipped, aware he’d already gone past the point of no return with the insult. “...I’d have said he was doing favours for grades.”

“For pre-tests? Guy’s aiming high. Or expecting low,” Shiro laughed. If anything, Keith’s embarrassment deepened. “I doubt it. Coran’s married and he’s got tenure, he’s been dealing with that sort of thing for years. I’ll be assisting him from next semester to take some of his work off, I’ll take your tip on board.”

“Maybe he’ll drop out by then. He always sits near me but he wasn’t there today, so I actually got to hear what was happening without all his goddamn fiddling next to me.” The tone was back, and Shiro remembered how sheltered Keith’s actual experience of people could be.

“...you know, Keith,” he said tentatively, voice slow and gentle to reach through Keith’s irritation, “I know it can be frustrating, but for some people it’s difficult to concentrate without something to occupy themselves physically so they can let their mind get to work. Katie’s brother was a serial pen-clicker until someone got him a silent fidget dice... thing. You’re gonna meet people from all walks of life here, Keith - some of them will push buttons you didn’t even know you had, and some of them will teach you a lot about yourself. Treat this as a learning opportunity, but remember you can always talk to the guy and ask him about it - you’d kinda be amazed how people open up when you actually talk to them nicely.”

“Oh yeah ‘cos he’s totally gonna be all chit-chatty when I tell him he’s driving me fucking insane and making it so I can’t concentrate.”

“...I said ‘nicely’, Keith,” Shiro sighed. Keith had the good sense to look embarrassed. “...You don’t know where to start, right?”

“No,” Keith said after a heavy moment.

“Probably ‘hey, nice pencil shaving art’ is a good start. Or from you, maybe ‘the overall anatomy could use a little work but I’m feeling the expression here’.”

Keith’s lips widened into a soft smile, and the tension receded. “Shut up, Shiro,” he said with a smirk.

“Hey I’m giving you gold here.”

“When do you ever not?” Keith responded, eyes finally joining his mouth in an overall positive expression. He flicked a glance at his watch. “Oh, I’m gonna have to bail, Pidge said she has an entire hard drive full of really old Arthur C. Clark shows so we were gonna plough through some this evening with pizza.” He finished his tea in one glug. “Sorry to go early.”

“I’m happy for you. Really,” Shiro said, and it was true - he was. “Go; have a good evening.”

“Thanks, Keith said, grabbing his bag. “...and thanks for the advice. Feels good just to get it out,” he said as he stood.

“Any time.”

* * *

 

Later on that evening, Shiro found himself staring at his email confirmation for the next event at The Galra, thinking back over his conversation with Keith.

_’You’re gonna meet people from all walks of life here - some of them will push buttons you didn’t even know you had, and some of them will teach you a lot about yourself.”_

How true that was; Shiro was aware. How large of a coincidence; he was yet to learn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man people keep giving me more kinky ideas to add into this so I've updated the tags a little just in case there's anything that squicks anyone out...!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long delay - ill health and block hit me like a freight train

Shiro poured himself into work. He set about finishing his TA course so he was prepared for next semester, submitting his edited research proposal to his supervisor and losing himself endlessly in the gym. Knowing he was going to be approaching someone in the centre of attention meant he was eager to be in better shape. Pure focused determination meant his weight load maximum increased by a larger margin than ever - his waistline slimmed a fraction but his upper body thickened with strength, to the point that Keith commented on it during one of their mentoring sessions. 

The poorly-disguised undercurrent of desire was a little awkward but Shiro navigated around it. By now, he was sure Keith had accepted that the feelings he had for Shiro would not result in anything, and was pleased to see Keith push at studying but also connecting with those in his study group.

Keith’s mood soured when the midterm results came back and he was beaten to top of the class by one percentage point by the kid who was annoying him, which amused Shiro no end but he couldn’t let Keith know that. It would work itself out in time. Overall, he seemed to be settling in, which gave Shiro the headspace to focus on himself.

The month dragged.

Things settled back to normal, but felt unreal - for a week or so Shiro lived in the aftermath, then the details slowly started to slip away. Some parts stuck, but the clarity with which he’d been able to recall previously faded with disappointing speed, and all he could remember were snippets.

It felt like a loss.

Thinking back , it felt like it had been over in moments, and those moments were disappearing. Shiro clung to what he could - a trickle of sweat down glitter-smeared skin, the wet, gutteral sound of a throat seizing in desperation for air - but one image burned brighter than the rest, that of strained legs, shaking like a newborn colt, stumbling as they were led away.

” _Today was his first show.”_

Shiro had thought about it a lot in the month since. The pet had been unable to walk unaided, and, god, he’d wanted it - for all of how Shiro was starting to understand his proclivities, the burgeoning desire for personal control, still he’d been pushed - the pace had been dictated by the master, and set by the pet. Shiro had barely been involved, truly - he’d seen the master go past what the pet was capable of taking, seen the boy gear himself up to meet the demand. Then, when Shiro had been allowed to participate - and there was the truth of it, ‘allowed’ - he’d held back.

Shiro had been out of his element, flying by the seat of his pants; unsure and uncertain. Next time was going to be different. Next time, he wasn’t going be given; permitted.

Next time, he was going to take.

* * *

The tuxedo fit better this time - a last-minute hire previously, but this time he’d had himself fitted first and he felt far more comfortable. After long consideration he’d felt the itch of regrowth was worth it and repeated his meticulous overpreparation from last time. 

Shiro was ready - he’d been ready since the day after the previous club night and anticipation had only made it more so. 

“Welcome back,” the girl at the front desk greeted, and he gave her a broad smile.

“Thanks.”

“Ooh, I think someone enjoyed themselves enough then?” she asked as she checked him in. He nodded. “Same preference as last time?”

“Yes, please.” 

She handed him a purple wristband, giving him a blatant once-over as she did. She grinned. “Boy would I love to be a fly on the wall at your gym,” she laughed, and he chuckled, by now recognising the casual flirt merely as a mood setter.

This time he didn’t delay - once inside, he decided to forego a drink and instead made his way straight upstairs to the top floor. He followed the purple lights down the corridor, towards the sound of a crowd and slow, heavy bass, almost breathless with anticipation, hoping beyond hope that he’d find-

Oh, _fuck_.

In the same room as last time, Shiro found a similarly-sized crowd as before, gathered around the centre. This time, however, there was no sign of the vaulting horse, nor, as it happened, the pet - instead, a six-foot box stood in the centre under a strange, bluish light. The sides were mirrored, polished to a sparkling shine that was only broken at waist height by a series of unmistakeable holes dotted around each facet, each far enough apart to accommodate a person comfortably standing at each one.

It was the most elegant glory hole setup Shiro had ever seen or even heard of. As he slipped into the room, he could feel the frenzied anticipation of the crowd building - there was fervent muttering all around. This was new, unknown, exciting to more than just him. He tried to peek into the holes to see if there was already someone inside but to no avail - the blue light was oddly bright, preventing him from seeing inside. 

As he found a seat, the music volume dropped a fraction, and Shiro’s heart beat faster as the handsome master from his last visit stepped out in front of the box, every bit as impeccably dressed as before and sporting the same mask. The man’s eyes roamed over the crowd, settling on Shiro for a moment. Shiro felt uncomfortably warm under his glittering gaze, unsure if his grin broadened for a split-second or not before he moved on.

“My friends,” he said in a voice meant to carry and _made_ to be heard, “I have a treat for you this evening. My sweet pet has been practicing all month for you. He is simply aching to demonstrate how good his lovely mouth is - I’m sure there are some fine gentlemen here who would like to sample his hard work and let him show you what he can do for you.” Richer than Shiro had remembered, his voice alone caused a tingle of pleasure but the words sent a wave of excitement through the crowd. Several people moved forward, and once again the master’s purple eyes fell on Shiro. He was standing before he knew it, drawn in by a force he couldn’t expain.

It was what he’d wanted, and it was happening once again. Shiro was buzzing inside, hands shaking slightly with anticipation. In a sort of mutual, almost-choreographed movement, they approached the mirrored box, spacing themselves naturally to find a hole each. The overhead lights were aimed directly at the surface, and up close, there was a greyish hue to the surface. With a shock, Shiro had a revelation.

It was a two-way mirror.

By unspoken consensus, the group held back for a moment, observing, waiting for permission. The master strutted around, the illusion of contemplation. He tapped one of the surrounding men on the shoulder, just around the corner from Shiro. With a rustle, the man unzipped his pants and let them fall to his ankles. He stepped right up to the box, hands moving across himself, pushing himself through the gap. Shiro caught a flash of dark flesh before the man’s eyes shut tight and his shoulders hunched up with tension. He let out a soft groan, and it was on.

The entire room narrowed to this man - though partially hidden behind a requisite mask, his expression was easily displayed for all to see in the mirror in front of him.He was still to begin with, but before long he was giving small thrusts through the hole in the mirror, grunting as he did so. His hand whipped up to lean on the mirror as his expression tightened - minutes flew by as all eyes were locked on him. Shiro snuck a glance around the room, to see some people touching themselves. The man next to him was palming himself through his pants, but other than that, none of the waiting group followed suit, yet.

Without warning, the spotlights dimmed, and at the same time, light exploded from inside the box, reversing the mirror. There was a series of gasps as the scene inside the box was suddenly revealed - Shiro felt a stab of arousal as he saw _yes, the pet, god, yes_ kneeling on the floor of the box. Chained cuffs bound his wrists to his ankles - clearly, restraint was a kink for him, his master or both - but this time he was merely masked, not blindfolded. That seemed logical, the back of Shiro’s mind told him - hard to see which hole to attend to otherwise.

Oh, he had been practicing. The amateur sloppiness from the previous session was almost entirely gone, replaced by eager, efficient skill. His eyes were closed, but Shiro was entranced by the little details he hadn’t seen before - long eyelashes, for one - he kept coming back to how gorgeous the boy’s pretty, spit-glossy lips looked as they worked back and forth across the brown length between them. There was confidence there that had not been before, and he was definitely able to take more into his mouth before there was the slightest gag. 

Shiro loved the idea that he knew the pet’s gagging line, knew how it had gotten better.

He switched to a different rhythm, pulling back to lap at the pink tip and run along one particularly bulging vein. His eyes opened and he looked straight up at the man he was sucking. As soon as their eyes met, the man outside gave a sharp cry, the only warning before he came. A stifled noise behind Shiro told him that he wasn’t the only one. Where Shiro was expecting a spurt of come, however, none happened, and he realised belatedly that the man was wearing a condom.

The lights switched, and the boy was obscured, but not before Shiro caught a glimpse of the edges of his mouth curving upwards in a self-satisfied smirk.

“A delightful appetiser,” the Master’s voice came floating across the room, higher in pitch than earlier and obviously pleased. “Please, feast.”

There was a pause while his words sank in, and then Shiro was doing as the others were - he undid his pants, grabbing the condom he’d thought to stow in his pocket as he let them drop a little. He rolled it overhimself and did as the other men did, pushing himself through his alloted space. The man to his right took a little longer as he was unfastening his packing dildo and fiddling with the harder, lengthy replacement, but after a moment he too was flush against the mirror, waiting.

They didn’t have to wait long - a soft moan sounded from the opposite side of the box, indicating where the pet had turned his attention. A similar pattern followed - after a time, the lights reversed, allowing the room to see in for a short period before he moved onto the next person, hidden once more.

Shiro was getting antsy - waiting for his turn was agonising. Every time the pet was revealed he could see what the boy could see from inside - dicks poking through the holes, twitching occasionally. He wondered if the pet could see the entire room when they couldn’t see him, or if he saw a mirrored surface the entire time. Outside, the master walked slowly but purposefully around the box, observing.

There was only one change up to the order of play - when it was the man to his right’s turn, the lights stayed the entire time, giving the man a visual in place of sensory feedback. As soon as it began, Shiro saw as the man fumbled in his pocket and a soft, vibrating hum drifted between them, just about audible from where Shiro stood. He saw the master smile as he walked past, halting briefly to watch his pet at work. 

He was entrancing - eyes shut tight as he sucked, making a show of using his long tongue. He swirled it around the tip, not holding in any one place for long, licked a stripe up the underneath. He was also making far more noise now than before - tiny soft moans became louder, far louder, the noise hitting Shiro right where he felt it most. Proximity made the ache worse, and the man next to him was beyond attractive, teeth close to breaking chapped lips as he watched the pet suckle on the dildo tip.His hand returned to his pocket and the hum increased in volume, but so too did his cries and eventually he gasped in climax, legs shaking as he pulled back, one hand leaning on the glass for support.

The lights switched, and the pet disappeared. Shiro heard a brief shuffling from inside the box, and then his senses blazed to life at the softest puff of hot breath on his cock. In contrast to what Shiro had assumed had happened to everyone else (and what he’d seen happen in full to the man next to him), the touch was light, cautious almost, and it blew every sensory ending he had. The tinest flicks of the tip of a tongue against the very outermost end of Shiro’s cock were tantalising beyond measure and he almost whimpered, unknowingly leaning forward to seek contact. His hands leaned up against the glass, palms flat on the surface and pressing hard, arching into the gap in the wall. 

He felt the pet shift closer, let lips slide painfully slowly over the head and Shiro’s mouth fell open as he all but sobbed with pleasure. “F-fuck,” he stuttered, surprised at just how sensitive he’d been left by the gentle treatment. He felt a huff of air, felt the corresponding stretch of lips and knew the pet was _laughing_ at him. His desperate tension slipped away and he chuckled. There was a brief stilling of movement from behind the wall, and then wet warmth engulfed him. 

Shiro sighed, eyes falling shut as the pet bobbed his head to take him in. His tongue worked along the underneath of Shiro’s cock as he moved, and Shiro was at a loss for words. Was it possible for someone to improve this much in a month? Just four weeks ago he’d been messy, eager but naive, choking on his master’s dick when he was pushed beyond his limits. Now he was quite happily onto his fifth blowjob of the evening and showed no signs of stopping, laughing at Shiro’s hungry need for more stimulus.

Clearly, he had a determination that was to be commended, on top of a lust that was balanced with a sense of humour. He’d seen nothing of that before, but there was an easiness to his movement now that Shiro attributed to this not being his first rodeo (in fact, both of their second rodeos, he thought with a grin). 

The pet’s skill was working - Shiro could feel the heat start to coil, felt his muscles tense with the building sensation. He heard a footstep behind him, and the room went dark briefly, a slight delay in the inner lights switching on. When his eyes adjusted he looked down to find the pet staring up at him, right at him, immediately answering the question of whether he was able to see out when they could not see in.

Blue. Impossible blue. Endless, deep blue.

The heat spiked instantly and Shiro came with a strangled cry, filling the condom and feeling his own heat inside. The pet took him deep into his mouth, not losing eye contact as he kept sucking. Shiro convulsed on the spot, cock pulsing as it was spent, before he relaxed down from the balls of his feet and stood flat. The pet gave him a wink, and vanished as the mirror switched back to opaque. Eyes closing, Shiro leaned his head against the glass as he panted, unashamedly happy smile spread across his face.

His eyes flew open as the pet pulled back, teeth grazing the rolled edge of the condom. Confused, Shiro almost pulled back but curiosity got the better of him. To his stunned shock, the pet tugged the condom off with his teeth, then took Shiro into his mouth one last time. Oversensitised but painfully aware of how big a rule was being broken behind the wall, Shiro fought to keep his reaction under control as he was licked clean. He _felt_ the pet swallow, even with the head of his cock still in his mouth, and had he not had a mind-numbing orgasm only a minute ago, it would have been enough to get him hard again.

With a teasing little kiss to his tip, then, the boy pulled away, and Shiro felt nothing.

He scrambled to reassemble his thoughts and function again, first pulling his softened self out of the space in the mirror, then tucking himself back into his pants and retying them. The man to his right had been replaced with another, and Shiro realised this was probably going to go on for much longer than he’d assumed. He stood out of the way, somehow remembering to grab a sanitising towelette from the stand near where he’d sat when he first came into the room. There was a pile of cool, fluffy towels, too, and he held one against his face for a moment, revelling in what had just happened.

He sat, slightly dazed, collecting himself. It took him a moment to recognise there was a presence by his side. He shifted and came face to face with the master, who wore an expression Shiro could only describe as a leer.

“You have my thanks. Again,” he said in his coldly deep voice.

“I think I should be thanking you. Or him, maybe?” Shiro said, his inexperience showing. He winced, aware he may have made a misstep.

“Either,” the master responded. His eyes were a fascinating shade of purple, but Shiro had seen God when he’d seen the pets eyes, so he could only be objectively interested. “I encourage and facilitate, but he plays of his own will. Do you think he plays well?” The tone he asked it in was a little unnerving, and Shiro felt the hair on his arms rise into goosebumps.

“Yes,” Shiro said, scratching the back of his neck. The sheer strength and authority coming from the master was incredible, and it made him nervous to be this close. 

“I am pleased to hear that. Your presence is a welcome one here, Takashi,” he said, standing and walking away with no further comment, leaving behind a strong presence. Unsettled but not quite sure why, Shiro looked at the box one last time and decided that his evening had done enough of a number on his brain, and he left without ceremony.

Hours later, Shiro was at home, having jerked off three times to the memory of the pet’s eyes staring up at him before it came to him with a sudden slam of cold, crawling fear.

The master had known his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> s/o to the kind reader who gave me some more insight on clubs - I didn't know about towels eeeeeeverywhere! Also sorry Keith - you'll get it someday :p


	6. Chapter 6

After his first trip to the Galra, Shiro had been exhausted and slept solidly, finally dragged semi-awake an hour after he usually got up by a screeching alarm clock that was seemed louder for having been ignored. This time, however, had been less physically demanding and entirely absent of the nervous energy that had consumed him before. There was also the small matter of the master having _known his name_.

He slept terribly that night, lying staring at the ceiling for hours, unsure who would recognise him. He’d been so careful. The last-minute boot polish from his first visit had been replaced with spray-on hair colour this time to hide his white forelock. Surely, if anyone had recognised him, he’d have heard about it before it had had a chance to get back to the master?

Who _was_ this man?

There was no point in trying to remember if he could have recognised anyone there - Shiro was fairly sure the only person he’d have been able to identify in a line-up outside the club was the master, whose physique was fairly distinguishable. Though he wished it weren’t so, he’d probably walk straight past even the pet in regular clothes.

Unless he saw his eyes. Hard to forget those in a hurry.

Blue. So, _so_ blue. They’d been stunning, cutting right through the cloying, voyeuristic atmosphere in the club and shutting everything out until it was just him and the pet. Shiro loved watching the pet; it was clear just how much he seemed to enjoy himself. The boy was a joy to see, and Shiro was learning that he really, truly did like to _watch_. The mirrored box had been the worst teasing he could have endured - other than the man next to him, he’d had only tantalising glimpses, almost painfully brief, before he received what was easily the best blowjob of his life. Strangely, fucking him had felt less satisfying but he’d learned more, seen more this time.

Even that was conflicting - feeling the boy’s teeth dragging his condom off had been exhilarating but terrifying at the same time - that was a level of risky behaviour that the club itself had taken great pains to reassure did not happen. While it wasn’t entirely a problem for him, the danger to the pet was very real - Shiro was clean but the pet had no way of knowing that. Moreover, had he done it to everyone else, hidden behind the safety of the two-way mirror? Most of the men had pulled out as soon as they’d come but Shiro had stayed still, allowing the opportunity. 

He refused to think that it was something more than that - the boy giving him special treatment was a line of thinking he refused to go down. That was a route to complication and this was supposed to be a simple fulfilling of desires.

Desire fulfilment. That was all.

Once that justification took hold, Shiro’s worry began to lift. What did he stand to lose? Though it was clearly a side of life frowned on in polite company, at the end of the day he was a consenting adult engaging in a legal activity. Exhausted from fitful sleep, Shiro lay on his bed and giggled slightly at the notion that it was little different to vaping - socially frowned on but more common than anyone was willing to admit. Once that took hold, the fear over the master knowing him fell away - what was the worst that could happen?

By going, he stood to lose his anonymity.

By staying away, he stood to lose the pet.

Mind made up, sleep came to Shiro at last. 

Some risks were work taking.

* * *

“Wow, Shiro, you look… pretty terrible, actually.”

“Thanks, I shaved and everything especially for you.” Matt Holt’s laughter was instant and bubbly, but Shiro wasn’t fooled - Matt presented as a goofy, cheerful young man, an appearance that masked a keen insight and penchant for cutting to the quick. 

“Awww, you shouldn’t have.”

“I know, but I thought you’d appreciate one person in your life actually caring what you think about something.”

Matt snorted and held up a hand; defeated. “Wow that was low. I like it.” He rifled through the nearest tray of screws, all sounds in the room momentarily reduced to the rummaging slide of greased metal. Finding the size he needed, he perched it on the end of his screwdriver and returned his attention to the mechanism on the bench. “So you wanna tell me why you look like shit?”

“Not really,” Shiro said, and watched the effect the words had on Matt - watched as the curls on his head bounced as Matt pulled back sharply and levelled a sharp gaze at Shiro. He put down the screwdriver and stepped away, turning to face Shiro with a furrowed brow.

“‘Not really’?”

Shiro sighed. “I didn’t sleep so great last night, okay? Just got a lot on. If it was something I needed help with I’d tell you. Or ask you for help, you know that.”

Matt seemed satisfied with that answer. “True.” He pushed a switch amongst a spaghetti junction of wires; it had no effect. “God, you bastard, just fucking work already!”

Shiro, who was used to these abrupt changes in subject, did not bat an eyelid. “Am I allowed to even know what you’re doing?”

“Oh, yeah,” Matt said casually, frowning for a second before swivelling the item on the desk on the spot and approaching it from a new angle. “Katie was pretending she hates the food here so I’m pulling my dad’s old Day Winner out of the grave.” At Shiro’s blank look, he smirked. “It’s like that thing in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang? Where he has a breakfast machine? It’s his favourite film. He made this when he was in college. It makes coffee and waffles on a timer, but you gotta remember to pre-load it the night before with mix and water. He had it all the way up until he married Mom but then someone bought them an espresso maker and it hasn’t seen the light of day since. I thought if I fixed it up it would drive Katie insane enough with the noise that she’d actually get out of bed on time in the mornings.”

Shiro blinked - this was the most Matt line of logic he’d ever heard. “It works?”

“Well,” Matt said with a rueful smile, “It did.” He reached into a gap and there was a soft clunking - he withdrew his hand rapidly with a yelp. The machine made a soft whirring noise, and then two panels started to slowly turn red. “Correction: it does.”

“…It is noisy,” Shiro commented, and laughed at Matt’s wink. 

“It’s meant to be. I don’t really care if it makes terrible coffee and burnt waffles - knowing my dad in college it probably does - the point is, after going to this effort, getting out of bed seems like a tiny step.”

No, _that_ was the most Matt line of logic Shiro had ever encountered - friendly overhelpfulness masking a devious core. “That’s… very good.”

“Thanks. At least I got something done today,” he sighed, wiping his hands on a dirty rag and attending to the batteries behind the lone small circuit board on top of the machine.

Shiro picked up on the undertone and narrowed his eyes. “Bad day?”

“Yeah, my best freshman swimmer didn’t show up to practice today. Again. We have a meet on Saturday and the rules say I have to exclude him from participating and he’s a powerhouse, so it’s a pain in the ass.” Matt was the assistant coach to the college swim team - though he wasn’t the world’s strongest swimmer, he was a social butterfly and had a particular knack for motivation and training regimes. Strangely, Shiro expected Matt to be angrier than he seemed - loyal to a fault and always reliable, he held others to the same standard.

“Kick him off the team? If he’s not committed…”

“No, he is! I think. He’s a strange one - kid gets a real kick from being there, you can tell he’s spent half his life in the water but two practices in two months is a lot to miss with no explanation. He didn’t even seem to care about the meet - texted him today to explain the rules and he was just like ‘ok, sorry’.” He finished replacing the batteries and then reset the circuitboard in place, watching as the timer hit 00:00 and the machine leapt to life. “Oh, there we go,” he beamed. “I’ll sure he’ll come round - if not I’ll beat it into him,” he joked, and Shiro returned the smile.

“Speaking of beating into him, my mentee mentioned he’d met your sister,” Shiro stated, watching Matt descend into giggles.

“If you mean Keith, yeah, she said. Apparently they’ve bonded over mid-90s Discovery Channel documentaries.”

“Yeah,” Shiro said, falling silent for a moment. “Hey, Matt? You ever feel like you want to… intervene? Make sure she gets on okay?”

Matt looked at him and saw straight through him - Shiro shrank slightly. “No, but I know my sister a lot better than you know Keith. Just… let him work it out. Pretty sure Allura practically wanted to force you to hold hands with everyone she thought would like you, but somehow she kept herself under control. If he’s hanging out with Katie, then he’ll be okay - from what she says, they’re a nice little gang. Don’t sweat it, Papa Shiro.”

“…Don’t… please don’t say that.” Shiro said with a grimace, regretting responding at all the moment he saw Matt’s face light up with utter glee.

“Big Bro Shiro! Wait, no, worse, oh _god_ , Daddy-“

It wasn’t often that Shiro could silence Matt with a look, but luckily, Matt knew enough to recognise the end of Shiro’s tether when he saw it.

“I’ll stop, I’m stopping, I’ve stopped.” He took the cloth cover nearby and bundled it up in his arms, straightening. “Didn’t think the kid was that kinky,” he said with a wicked glint in his eye.

Shiro said nothing - denial was only encouragement to Matt, and besides - the truth was far, _far_ stranger.

* * *

Many things had shocked Shiro over the last few weeks - he’d had enough time between them to somehow become accustomed to them. Between last night and tonight, however, it felt like things were snowballing. He stared in blinding shock at his screen, not quite able to take in what he was reading but its meaning startlingly clear, holding him in place while shaking him senseless.

_Dear Mr Shirogane,_

_You are personally invited to a private gathering in VIP room 1 at The Galra’s December Spectacular. There will be an exhibition followed by a small contest. The prize is exclusive and will be revealed on the day. Should you wish to attend, please RSVP to this email by one week prior. Your entry fee for the December Spectacular forms part of this invitation - upon receipt of your RSVP we will forward you the necessary documentation._

_Warm regards,_

_The Galra_

Shiro was shaking. Literally shaking - though he was alone, it felt as though a thousand eyes were on him, two of them purple and wicked. This could only have been the work of the master - the _prize_. There was a prize. It could only be one thing. _Exclusive_. 

_“Your presence here is a welcome one, Takashi.”_

Sometimes, it was best to just take what life handed you. Shiro clicked the RSVP link, and somehow remembered the breathe along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am the worst person and KEEP forgetting to post these:
> 
> [Shiro/Lance/the master in the club](http://fayheyhey.tumblr.com/post/151845855200/kinktober-day-14-sensory-deprivation-late-but) by [fayheyhey](http://fayheyhey.tumblr.com)  
> [Shiro/Lance](http://whumpbby.tumblr.com/post/151949107389/what-came-to-mind-when-lovely-jennypen-shared-her) by the unfairly-multi-talented [whumpbby](http://whumpbby.tumblr.com)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't take any credit for the contest mechanics - they came from [WHUMPBBY](http://whumpbby.tumblr.com) who came up with them when I was about to throw my laptop out the window in frustration!

Some trials you’re prepared for. Thesis? Major trial. Coming out? A trial some never have the need (or opportunity) to face. Getting a mortgage? Famously traumatic.

Getting his arms fitted for a pair of full-length leather gloves? That was a trial Shiro would never have even imagined, let alone expect to face, but here he was. His invitational contest loomed only a week away, and he was sitting in a tailor’s back room, shirtless while the tailor in question measured his arms and shoulders. The man was efficient and quiet, working neatly and seemingly without judgement, for which Shiro was intensely relieved. He’d come in with a sketch of what he’d wanted, and the man had given the paper a once-over, gruffly quoted an amount that Shiro was willing to spend and gotten straight to work. In almost no time at all, Shiro was back out on the street, entirely bewildered but quietly excited, breaths small, rapid puffs in the brisk December air.

Two days later he sat on his bed, long box held too-tight in his hands as he worked up the nerve to open it. When he finally lifted the lid his pupils darkened - he ran a reverent finger down and was surprised by how soft they felt. Shedding his clothes, he donned the gloves carefully, finding it no more difficult to tie the fiddly leather band across his clavicles than with his bare fingers - even his metal fingers had no restriction on movement, which was a relief.

For the first time in many, many years, Shiro stood in front of the mirror and was pleased with what he saw. The gloves covered the entirety of his arms, coming up over the edge of his shoulders and then linked with a thin band between, the effect of which was entirely aesthetic but added a level of elegance to the look. The time he’d put into the gym in the last two months was obvious - his shoulders far broader, core stronger and musculature defined. He looked (and felt) the healthiest in his life - and he reflected on that, briefly, wondering if fifteen-year-old him could see him whether it would have given him the hope that he’d never been able to truly muster at that age.

As a test, he slid his dress shirt over the top and did up the buttons - the gloves fit like a second skin. The previous times he’d had to stay dressed every time - but now he was free. Every visit, he felt a new lease of freedom, discovered another aspect of himself he didn’t know existed. The low undercurrent of unease he felt about the older master in the club was a niggling worry, but still, Shiro stood to lose too much by staying away.

With that mindset, Sunday couldn’t come fast enough.

* * *

The snowflakes that clung to Shiro’s jacket as he entered the Galra had melted by the time he checked it; the outside world having ceased to exist the moment he stepped over the threshold, replaced by the thick air of warm bodies. Shiro himself had barely noticed the cold outside - the low heat he’d first felt when he’d received the email had never been far the last while, and the gloves only added to it - he could feel the loosely-bound strap across his chest, burning under his shirt, seeking exposure. He was handed a purple card at the reception desk and directed towards a VIP lounge on the ground floor. Strangely, he found it more stifling once he’d stripped his shirt off and stored it in a locker, but after passing through the main open-plan room inside and walked past others in a similar state of undress, his shyness eased. Before he knew it, he found himself outside the VIP room, taking a shaky inhale, clawing back the breath robbed by the unknown. He touched the card to a panel and with a sliding click, the door unlocked and he stepped inside, anticipation firing in his veins.

Inside it was dim; what little light there was came from the floor, enough to guide Shiro in. There was no crowd this time, just four others stood about; none talking but each seemingly radiating the same aura of pride and fear that had settled in Shiro’s bones: pride over being selected; fear over what he’d been selected for.

Only one stood out - taller than Shiro with an arrogant smile, he was almost as powerfully built as the master, strength in his very being, white-blond hair slicked back over a stark undercut. He was completely at ease, and Shiro got the impression he knew what to expect. He met eyes with Shiro, acknowledged him with a one-sided smirk, then turned away.

For all it had been so easy to convince himself at home, all the niggling arguments against his being here this time came to the fore in the face of reality - the pervading music not enough to cover the fact that the room was silent, all wrapped up in their own thoughts. Shiro found a space and let himself occupy it, taking in the room around him - unlike anywhere in the Galra he'd seen yet there was an abundance of fabric in the room, draped down the walls and from the ceiling. The whole room felt softer, more boudoir-ish than any other floor had, but given the master’s previous flair for the dramatic and grandiose, Shiro was prepared for something off the wall.

He was right to be guarded. The music slowed to a sensuous beat, and the master stepped out from a fold between curtains. Shiro was shocked to see he wore no mask - he was ruggedly attractive, the white scar running his brow and cheek only adding to the ever-present edge of danger about him. He wore the scar like a warning, and Shiro shifted slightly, feeling a wave of excitement pass over the room.

“My friends,” he said with a slow-curved smile, “Over the last few events you have each entertained us all, and for that, I am grateful. You have also demonstrated to me how wonderful your _personalities_ are. I see myself as a younger man in some of you, and for that and I want to give you an opportunity.” There was a shuffling noise, and Shiro was one of the first to locate its origin - he looked up in time to see one of the curtains pull back, and a shape was revealed behind it. Shiro’s breath caught in his throat as he processed what he was seeing - the pet, nude and intricately bound, suspended from a wooden plank. Rather than a single length of rope, there were several, all leading back up to the support structure, across the ceiling and then descending together at the master’s side, allowing his movement to be not only restricted but also manipulated. He was wearing the same small mask as the last time, and though his mouth was spread wide around a ring gag, he was visibly grinning, cheeks lifted.

Shiro shifted on the spot, feeling the itch of want burst into fervent desire. Across the room, the blond man licked his lips, and that put a dampener on his desire - there was no gentleness to him, just sheer animalistic _want_. Shiro was surprised at his conflict - he’d enjoyed watching the pet attend to several others in the mirrored glory-hole box, but when he saw the other man look at the pet with open lust, the only thing he felt was something akin to protectiveness, or was it possessiveness? Impossible to tell, but it was shockingly powerful. He frowned, and forced his attention back on the pet.

“As it is Christmas, and I find myself overcome with the spirit of the season,” the master went on, to some laughter from those present, “I offer my delightful pet as a gift - should you prevail tonight, you will earn a private session with him.” He tugged on one of the ropes, and the pet’s head snapped up - face slackened briefly in shock, but he recovered rapidly, smile falling back into place around the gag but Shiro had seen it - he’d been surprised at the rough pull.

Something sparked to life in Shiro’s gut, as yet unidentified.

“However…” the master said softly, and all eyes snapped to him. “You must earn the privilege.” He made a gesture, and the entire curtained wall behind him was pulled aside with a theatrical flourish. Shiro’s wasn’t the only sharp intake of breath at what was behind him - five kneeling figures, clad in skintight mesh underwear with their hands and ankles bound, _waiting_.

One each.

“These obliging boys here are for you to prove yourselves - make them come without touching either their cock or ass. I will be listening. Time is a factor, but more importantly - show me creativity. After all,” he leered, tugging on a combination of the hanging ropes, “I will only tolerate the best for my dear pet.”

The ropes pulled the pet into an awkward position - his upper body dropped forward, and his legs were extended far enough that he was bent double, so much so that his open mouth was only a short distance from his own cock. He remained there for a moment, long enough for Shiro to take in the strain in his heaving belly - this was past his physical limit. His eyes were white and round, terror evident for a moment before the ropes eased and he was positioned more comfortably again. Shiro’s eyes stayed glued to his face, but when the pet met his gaze he quickly looked away.

“…that clear?” He’d been so focused on the pet that Shiro had missed something, but the question was enough to answer. He nodded, along with the other ‘participants’. “Then you may begin.”

This was, hands down, the most bizarre thing he’d ever witnessed - the unsettled feeling in Shiro flared, and he was slow to move, until he overheard one of the other men hiss, “As if anyone’s gonna beat Sendak. This is just posturing, everyone knows Sendak’s practically his favourite.” The words weren’t loud enough to reach the master, but the blond man chuckled to Shiro’s left, and the speaker shrank as he realised he’d been overheard.

“That’s right,” the blond, Sendak, returned. “I’ve more than earned my right, but I’ll do it again if it means five minutes alone with that peach,” he said, indicating upwards a thumb. He caught Shiro’s eye as he turned away, and bared his teeth in the most arrogant alpha male display Shiro had ever had the misfortune to witness. The seriousness of the situation stopped Shiro from rolling his eyes, but the worry he had was galvanised into determination as he realised that there was no fucking way on this earth that Sendak was getting his hands on the pet. It was enough that the pet looked distinctly uncomfortable, a far cry from his usual languid ease - this was out of all order.

He didn’t want this; that much was obvious. Being folded almost in half had been pain he’d clearly not expected, and his momentary wild expression before he’d caught himself had been more than telling. Shiro was glad he’d come now - he was going to win this, and he was going to erase every negative emotion the pet was feeling.

Two of the men started forward first and Shiro followed, approaching one of the kneeling figures. He was gagged, but his golden eyes were open and they met Shiro’s with what could only be described as eagerness. Pale skin, strawberry-blond hair - he was a dream to look at, eyes soft in the low light. Unlike the other four subs, however, he was bigger - athletic build and long legs, he probably stood as tall as Shiro when he wasn’t on his knees. Still, he was rather attractive like that - he held himself well, submission oozing from every pore. He was _very_ into this, and Shiro relaxed slightly.

He could work with this.

To his left, he heard Sendak’s voice as he leaned in to his own target. “Such a pretty little thing, aren’t you.” His voice was all business, and Shiro saw the other man shiver slightly. He was right; little was an apt description. The other four men were far more boyish in stature, skinny as the pet but shorter. Sendak reached out and gripped the man’s hair firmly, tilting his head back and drawing a soft gasp - their physicality pushed them into a natural dynamic, and he watched as both fell into the mindset of dom and sub.

There was no time to waste.

Though his own partner was different, he was no less willing - older, maybe, and so likely experienced. He had the faintest hint of a bruise on his neck, mostly-faded and covered in what Shiro could only guess was concealer. When he looked further, he noticed his body littered with tiny marks - from a whip, Shiro realised with a start. He reached out, almost in awe, and let a finger trail along his own partner’s collarbone - slowly, his touch featherlight. He watched for a response and was pleased as a smattering of goosebumps blossomed across the skin of his arms. He heard the man’s breath pick up, and he knew how he was going to play this.

“Close your eyes,” Shiro said softly, smiling. His partner considered the request for a moment, then obeyed. “That’s good,” he cooed. “Did you do that because I wanted you to, or you wanted to?” His sub’s lips parted a fraction. “The second one, am I right?” As he spoke, he stepped into the man’s personal space, until he could feel his body heat. “You just wanted me to tell you to do it.” After a long moment, the man nodded. The resounding echo of a smack startled him for a second, followed by a groan as he pieced together that Sendak had slapped his own sub. Though Shiro couldn’t make out the words that followed, he could tell enough from the tone that floated across that Sendak was very, very used to commanding those he was with.

This close, Shiro caught the barest edge of a flinch from his own partner, and paused for a second, considering. Crouching until he was on the same level, he kept his voice as warm as possible. “See, here’s what I think. I don’t think you want me to beat you, do you?” Hesitantly; a head shake. “Thank you. I didn’t think so.” His fingertip slid up the man’s arm and neck, coming to a halt under his chin as he held it. He stayed silent a moment, patiently watching the man’s chest, waiting, until the man’s breathing turned slightly ragged. “You want to be surprised,” Shiro murmured, and the nod was quicker, this time. “To give up control, to let your pleasure be dictated by someone else. To not have to ask, or choose.” Another nod, firmer. He caressed the man’s cheek, felt the ripple of shock under his gentle touch. The man craned his neck, leaning into Shiro’s hand. He made a sweet sound of acceptance.

Lewd, wet noises came, then - Shiro did not have to look to know that Sendak was shoving himself down his man’s throat, using his mouth. The master had said nothing about themselves - the only restriction was on touching the subs. Sendak’s sub was making distressed noises, but his cock was leaking through the mesh boxer-briefs he was wearing - he was enjoying being used, and was acting up to it.

Shiro ignored them - it mattered not. His attention was firmly on the man on his knees in front of him - he was all he needed. He looked again at his appearance, analysing this time - manicured nails, the softest skin and hairstyle a supermodel could only dream of. His legs were hairless, and he had underlying muscle that perfectly fit his frame. Like Shiro, he wore eyeliner in a style that spoke of practice. He took meticulous care of his appearance - that was appreciable, and useful.

“Or I think maybe… you want to be worshipped.” He watched the man react to that, heard the weak, helpless sound of arousal and chuckled. He reached back and unbuckled the man’s gag, let it drop casually to the floor. He brushed a thumb across his bottom lip and let the man come to him - watched triumphantly as he sucked it, seeking any stimulation possible. “Do you want more?” He asked, running a hand through the man’s hair as he whined. “I wonder what it is you want…” he mused, watching closely. The man swallowed and his head tilted slightly, sleek blond hair falling to the side, and Shiro knew - he leaned in as close as possible and whispered, hardly registering the shadow that fell over them as he asked, “You trust me now, don't you?”

“Yes,” the man answered, breathless, and Shiro felt a wellspring of victory.

“Good,” he praised, and leaned in, breathing heavily against the skin of the man’s neck. Fine hairs rose to stand on end, and the mottle bruise was more obvious, now. Shiro brushed his lips against it and revelled in what it did to the man - he keened, so quietly only Shiro could possibly have heard. “You’ve made yourself so beautiful for me,” he said, tongue darting out to the man’s earlobe. “That should be rewarded. A pity I can’t touch you - you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Mmmhmm,” the man sighed, biting his lip. Shiro chanced a drag of his nails across one nipple, and the sound he received in reaction was supremely gratifying. He did it again, this time while digging a canine into the soft flesh of his earlobe. The nub under his fingers hardened.

“Cute,” Shiro hummed with approval, looking over his shoulder and watching the curve of his back, saw him stretch out and lift his ass, a moth to flame. Shiro’s hands each found a pert nipple and pinched, carefully at first, then harder. He knew the leather of his gloves had to be hot by now, and he used that to his advantage, sliding one hand around and across, before running them down the man’s belly, close enough to push the line but not cross it. Supple flesh shook under his touch, and he knew it wouldn’t be long - he didn’t rush, he didn’t need to. The man was so tuned to every touch, just need a push in the right direction. Shiro ran his teeth over the join of his shoulder and neck and bit down, _hard_. The man cried out, and Shiro pushed himself closer, until they were skin to skin, only the narrow joining thread between his gloves between them. The man arched, moving closer, seeking more - he rubbed himself against Shiro and Shiro _felt_ his cock buck in his underwear - he was close.

“Please…” he whimpered, and Shiro brought his palms up to cup his cheeks. The man lifted his chin, lips fat and glossy, and Shiro knew what he wanted, what would push him over the edge. He leaned in until they were breathing the same air, the man’s mouth wide open and panting.

Shiro pushed forward and kissed him - bruising and furious, hands holding his head in place. After thirty frenzied seconds, he felt the man shudder and break away, bowing his head to lean into Shiro as his mouth fell open and with a broken noise he came, loudly and far ahead of any of the others. Shiro cradled the back of his head. “Well done,” he whispered, and the man gave an appreciative sob, eyes still obediently closed.

“Well done indeed,” came a low voice from above them, and they both looked up to find the master standing over them, tall and towering. There was a grunt of frustration and Shiro snapped his gaze to the left, saw Sendak glaring daggers at him as he tucked himself back into his pants, his sub shoved aside. The master walked slowly towards where his pet was still hanging, and lowered him slightly, enough to put his head within reach. The pet looked at Shiro with an alarming level of relief. His master stroked his cheek fondly, and when he spoke, it turned Shiro’s insides cold.

“It would seem we have our Champion.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> psst i have a [twitter](https://twitter.com/supergayjen) now  
> fayheyhey drew [Lance being stretched](http://fayheyhey.tumblr.com/post/162897903000/i-drew-this-back-when-jennypen-was-writing) (on the ground, as opposed to suspension, but the same sort of thing)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags are there for a reason. real life is never black and white.

“Somehow, I knew it would be you.”

Shiro could barely hear the master speaking over the pounding of his heart, taking the offered towel with a grateful nod. He wiped down his head and shoulders, hiding behind the rough coolness of the material for a moment, but slowly aware that he was required to respond.

“Thank you?” He said, cursing himself for the questioning tone at the end. A soft chuckle told him the master did not mind.

“Your humility suits you. I do not pass compliments lightly, Takashi. You have proven yourself very promising - you play well. You are remarkably observant, and you gave that boy exquisite pleasure. You have done so in the past for my own boy. You have great potential, but you need to work on taking control.”

Unsure how to respond to that, Shiro nodded silently. The master seemed pleased at his agreement.

“Control is something your submissive gives to you for a reason - especially if they choose you above others. If you are the most dominant to them, then you must demand the most submission of them.”

That made a strange sort of sense, but at the same time left a nasty feeling in Shiro’s mouth - alone with the man, his aura seemed that much more oppressive. He did not have to work for it - authority and control came entirely naturally to him, it seemed. He was older, very practiced, and, Shiro was coming to learn, a little bit frightening. All he did was hint, or ask, and was immediately obeyed by all around him. It was one thing to be able to command a room, but to take that power and focus it on one person was almost overkill - Shiro felt like every bit of his six foot four inch frame was looking up at the master from inside his boots.

With a jolt, he realised that this was what it must be like for the pet _all the time_.

Shiro shivered. His earlier resolve ached from a far corner of his heart. He had no idea what to expect now - so he just nodded and hoped the master would go on.

“You can do great things - wonderful things. It pleases me to have found you - with the correct guidance you will go far. I will show you the way - your naiveté is charming to begin with but will need to be overcome in time. How lucky for us all, for you to have come to the Galra,” he breathed, voice rich. Shiro risked a sideways glance and immediately wished he had not - the smile the man wore was entirely unsettling. “I need a moment alone with my pet,” he said, cutting off the conversation both with a tone of finality as he stood.

“Of course,” Shiro agreed, shamed at how much of a relief it was the master’s attention would be away from him for a moment, hating the selfishness of that thought, watching his retreating back as he disappeared through a door at the far end of the small room and left Shiro to ruminate.

‘ _Private session’_ could mean anything, but Shiro very much liked the idea of being alone with the pet.

Shiro had barely let his shoulders sag when the entry door to the room burst open, and Sendak stumbled in. His lip was curled in anger and he glared at Shiro with an intensity that Shiro had never seen before in his life.

“You got lucky,” Sendak sneered.

“I’m sorry?” Shiro asked, both a question and hopefully something to mollify Sendak’s rage.

“With Kise. Everyone knows he’ll come at the drop of a goddamn hat, doesn’t mean shit. You didn’t win anything, what the fuck even was that meant to be? You gonna propose to him next, see if it makes him multiple-o? Maybe you can win a car.” There was a cold fury to him that set Shiro’s teeth on edge, and Shiro steeled himself, unable to stop the response from escaping. He was apprehensive enough after a few minutes alone with the master; Sendak’s aggression pushed him right over.

“Maybe, but I’m still the one going in there,” he pointed with a jerk of his head, “and you’re not. If you wanted it so bad and you knew that guy would respond so well, why didn’t you pick him?”

“Fuck off, loverboy,” Sendak snarled. He seemed to grow in size as his hackles rose, but whatever he was about to say was cut off as far door opened again, and the master reappeared. They shared a look for a moment, and Shiro almost started - Sendak’s expression could only be described as _betrayed_.

“Leave us, Sendak,” the master ordered, and Sendak’s voice turned pathetically desperate.

“But, Zar-“

“I said _leave us_. You’re already a poor loser, don’t make it worse by embarrassing me,” he said in an icy voice. The threat was palpable. Sendak’s mouth snapped shut and he pursed his lips, breaths coming hard in the cooler air before he turned on his heel and slunk back out the door.

The awkward silence he left behind hung until the master dismissed it with a chuckle.

“Shall we?”

* * *

 

He was beautiful, and Shiro was so, so weak.

The robe the pet was wearing was almost totally sheer, catching the soft light in the room and giving him an unearthly appearance. He was resting against a mountain of pillows, legs tucked aside. The ring gag was gone, replaced by a dark band of leather that covered the entire lower half of his face, secured behind his head with two straps. His eyes met Shiro’s for a split-second before his attention snapped to his master.

The master clicked his fingers, and the pet responded instantly, jumping up to his knees at the edge of the bed. His body straightened, and though the robe helped, Shiro could see the forming bruises visible on his thighs in the pattern of the ropes that had held him just a little while ago. As he approached a step behind the older man, Shiro could see where tanned skin had been broken, rubbed raw by the rough treatment when he’d been jerked and pulled. It should have been pretty arousing - Shiro had only dreamed of seeing marks like that on someone, but still it wasn’t like how he had imagined - they hadn’t been put there by his hand, by shared desire, but by someone else.

He remembered the boy’s wide-eyed shock when he’d been pulled, and his stomach turned - that hadn’t been expected, which meant it couldn’t have been discussed, or agreed upon. He’d been taken by surprise, had a line crossed. Just like the first time, when he’d gagged around the master’s cock and been held there too long.

Shiro wondered how many more lines had been crossed when no-one was watching.

Like Shiro had seen him do before, the master brushed his knuckles against the pet’s cheek, and watched the practiced response - watched the pet’s expression slacken and eyes close as he bowed into the touch. “This is Sir,” he said, and it took Shiro a moment to realise that meant him.

The pet ducked his head in deference, and Shiro swallowed hard.

“Greet our guest,” the master said, as though speaking to a child. Shiro frowned - the gag? Surely…?

“Hello, Sir,” the pet said, voice only slightly muffled by the leather strip. He was quiet a moment too long, before it occurred to him that, increasingly uncomfortable as the master made him, _this_ was the reason he’d come. In a few moments, they would be alone - _alone_.

“Hello,” Shiro said softly, finding a lazy grin somewhere to wear. He could tell the pet gave a quick returning smile as the apples of his cheeks rose, but he dropped his gaze rapidly, awaiting instructions.

“Sir went to a great deal of effort for you,” the master drawled. “What do you say to that?”

“Thank you, Sir,” the pet responded instantly, and Shiro felt his gut twist at the words. The boy was still looking at where his hands rested on his knees, but there was tension in every part of him - anticipation.

“Good,” the master murmured approvingly. “Be a fitting reward, there’s a good boy.” He ran his hands roughly through the pet’s hair, a possessive gesture if ever Shiro had seen one. He bristled, clamping down on his own reaction. He felt as though he were on a knife-edge, but it was not him who would fall - if push came to shove Shiro knew he could throw a solid punch and get the hell out of there, but he knew _nothing_ of the pet and what it would mean for him.

Shiro’s heart was in his mouth, its hare-fast beat thrumming in his ears as he watched the master turn and eye him. “Make it a good show,” the man grinned, and the world tilted for a second before refocusing - he wasn’t going anywhere. He was going to watch.

Of course he was. He’d just watched Shiro bring a man to orgasm by kissing him, and the first thing he did was run off and put a bigger gag on his pet. He’d put a literal barrier between them; Shiro didn’t have a hope in hell of getting any closer than this. The boy knew it, too - his gaze followed the master for a moment, flicking back to his knees as the master took a seat on a large chair opposite the bed and settled in. His hands flexed into fists.

“I would say nice to meet you, but this isn’t the first time we’ve met, is it?” Shiro asked, keeping his tone light.

The boy blinked, looking up at him.

“No, Sir,” he said slowly, unsure.

“I guess it’s the first face to face meeting,” Shiro smiled. “I think that counts.”

“Yes, Sir.”

His voice was nice - warm; faintly nervous. He blushed, and closed his eyes for a moment like he was trying to fight the urge to laugh.

“What is it?” Shiro asked, leaning in closer. The pet shook his head, and Shiro realised that whatever was amusing him, he couldn’t say it in front of his master. Thinking quickly, Shiro leaned in and ran his fingers through the pet’s loose, brown hair and tugged it, directing him to tilt his head. He nibbled the pet’s earlobe, letting his teeth nip at it, and then whispered,

“Tell me.”

“Face to dick,” the pet choked out, and Shiro felt every muscle in him seize up at the effort to contain his laughter. His shoulders shook and he leaned into the pet’s shoulder, struggling to hold himself together.

No. This wasn’t happening. Shiro was already confused enough about how attracted he was to the pet - in here, under this roof, they played a role - the pet was an act, the master was an act, even Shiro’s level of holding himself together was somewhat of an act but somehow, all of him had become infatuated. Bad enough that Shiro already soft for him like this - seeing the guy break character and be real, be an actual person with a stupid sense of humour and a delightful laugh was utterly unfair.

Desperate to pull himself back over the edge of that precipice, Shiro bit into the pet’s neck, feeling his pulse jump as he swiped his tongue across the skin. The pet made a sharp sound of surprise, head falling back slightly as his mouth fell open.

Shiro wanted to kiss him, and found he couldn’t - kissing the blond earlier had gotten him here, but kept the pet just that fraction distant. Shiro would have to make do with kissing every other inch of him. He leaned down to mouth at the boy’s collarbone, moving the glimmering robe aside, tasting warm skin. There was the barest edge of cologne, something cheap and normal and so down to earth that it stuck out in the opulence of the club. He didn’t smell of cinnamon and spice, he smelled of skin and youth and it was so lovely Shiro couldn’t help the appreciative noises he left in the wake of the trail of kisses across brown flesh.

“He’s been prepared for you, you can dispense with the preamble,” came the master’s voice, and Shiro froze, felt the boy go rigid under his hands - so that was how this was going to be. He hadn’t earned any privilege or prize - he’d just volunteered to be a different player in the master’s game.

Just another pet.

Shiro should have left - should have stood up, taken the pet by the hand and walked them both out the door, but one glance at the boy’s fearful eyes and he held firm - this could have been Sendak, could have been anyone else but it wasn’t - Shiro was here, and he was going to hold to his earlier promise.

“Thank you,” he said. He stood up, pulling the boy to his feet. He was only a little shorter than Shiro himself, lanky as anything. Shiro locked eyes with him, willing him to trust him, and after a painfully long moment, the boy gave an almost-imperceptible nod.

Knowing how he wanted to play it now, Shiro took a second to consider his next words carefully. ‘Do you want to ride me’ was too passive - the master’s bullshit line about demanding the most submission rang in his head. He had to be so, so careful, to give what he wanted to the pet while appearing to please the master. “You’re going to ride me,” he said instead, and watched as the pet’s eyes lit up. He liked to imagine the pet biting his lip beneath the half-mask.

Shiro manoeuvred them so he could lie back down on the bed, grabbing a condom on the way. The pillows gave off the same scent as the pet - he’d been lying on them for a little while. He beckoned the pet with a crooked finger, and breathed in sharply at how the pet climbed onto the bed and crawled towards him, limbs sinuous, his neck curved forward. This was territory he knew well, Shiro could see, though he moved gingerly, legs clearly still tender from earlier but he was trying to cover it. Hands slid up his thighs, slim fingers heading straight for Shiro’s crotch, and he recognised the opportunity to play into the master’s rules.

“I didn’t say touch me,” Shiro admonished. “I said you’re going to ride me. Do you have a problem with that?” He stared hard at the pet, who had gone stock still and then lowered his head in obeisance.

“No, Sir,” he said in an unsure voice.

Shiro reached for the pet’s cheek but remembered last minute what that did to the boy - instead putting his hand around the back of his neck and drew the pet’s eyes to him. He quirked his lips on one side, the side the master couldn’t see, and felt some of the tension leave the pet’s shoulders. He pulled himself out of his pants, stroked his cock a few times, enjoying how the pet’s eyes raked over him. The pet started to reach for the condom, but Shiro shook his head and he shrank back, waiting while Shiro sheathed his erection.

He was proactive, and it painted an easy picture - the master, lounging and lothargic, and the pet, eager and attentive, _trained_. His usual pattern was clearly to make it run smoothly so the master’s pleasure was uninterrupted. At no point did he touch himself, something Shiro would have loved to see, or tell him to do - but he wasn’t in control, this wasn’t his scene, he knew now, and he’d already been corrected once. He would have to work within limitations he couldn’t even be sure of to show his appreciation, to put his own stamp on things.

The pet started to turn, putting his back to Shiro, and Shiro understood his intention. He grabbed his arm, stilling him. “No, I earned your face. Show it to me.” A nod, and Shiro felt his weight move up the bed until it settled over him, straddling him so his cock rested snugly behind the pet’s ass. “Keep still. I’m going to take you now,” Shiro murmured, one hand laid on the pet’s hips to hold him in place. The other held the base of his cock steady as he pushed up into slick warmth, eyes never leaving the boy’s angular face. Blue eyes fluttered shut, and Shiro had to take a moment to breathe as he watched his back arch perfectly, shoulders back as his arms dropped straight down. He cried out as Shiro was seated snug inside him, and Shiro saw his toes curl.

“Good boy,” Shiro smiled, though the words sounded hollower than earlier. He didn’t like playing into the master’s fantasy anymore, but he couldn’t risk much else.

The pet responded automatically with, “Thank you, Sir,” his voice low and clear, and Shiro began to move, slowly, carefully, angling himself to thrust forward as he did. In the glory hole setup the pet had teased him, now he returned the favour, taking up a leisurely pace, relaxing into it.

God, every part of the pet was long - long limbs, long torso - and he knew it too - even now, he played to his strengths and stretched himself out above Shiro, head tipped back to display an irresistibly long neck. The robe fell about him in a way that accentuated every aspect of him, almost glowing as he moved. He was grinding atop Shiro, falling into the same pace with a sense of unfamiliarity, taking a few faltering attempts to pick up speed but Shiro’s grip kept him at the pace he wanted. When he shifted to look down at Shiro, Shiro took the chance and gave him a broad smile, hoping it silently spoke of his desire for the pet to enjoy this.

Delighted, the boy ducked his head and started to lean down, catching himself. Seeing what he wanted, Shiro used his free hand to reach up to his neck, pulling him down to meet him until they were skin-to-skin, Shiro rocking gently into that wet heat. “You’re beautiful,” he breathed into his skin, unsure if he could even be heard, running his tongue along the boy’s collarbone. Carefully, he reached between them, curling his fist around the boy’s cock.

He was unprepared for the shock of pleasure that rippled through the pet as though he was innocent to the attention - the gasp the boy let out was loud and stunned. Shiro felt him clench around him, felt him try to clamp down on the response but he was having none of it. He moved his hand to match his fucking, and the boy shuddered, crying out and came, hot between them, fingers digging into Shiro’s shoulders, carrying Shiro over into bliss as Shiro peaked inside him.

They stayed like that for a little while, panting, the pet taking longer to catch his breath behind the mask. Shiro eased up, letting him move through his high and come down, sighing into the pet’s ear. “Amazing,” he said, forgetting himself for a second.

It was a mistake. “Not yet,” he heard in a deep baritone, alongside a rustling. He hardly had time to register the dip in the bed before he felt the master’s presence behind the pet, saw him loom over them both. A finger pushed in alongside his softening cock, and the pet’s eyes flew open, head snapped up as he realised what was about to happen.

“Wait-“ Shiro said quickly, forcefully exhaling as the body above him locked up entirely and the master shoved himself inside, stretching the pet so fast Shiro’s stomach twisted. The pet lost his balance, fell flat against Shiro, and whimpered - a _real_ whimper, not a soft sound of passion, but sheer distress - the older man did not give him time to adjust, like Shiro had, but immediately picked up a brutal rhythm, pounding hard and fucking them both at once. Helpless, each ramming thrust jolted the pet forward, and Shiro saw his face contort with the effort of not protesting, but that wasn’t enough for the master - he wanted the scream. He yanked on the pet’s hair, using the straps to bend his head back and the added leverage to slam into him harder and harder.

“I can’t hear you…” he grunted, and the pet let out a pealing cry, pain dashed across what Shiro could see of his features, eyes screwed firmly shut. “That’s better,” the master laughed, picking up speed until it was just rapid, stabbing thrusts. Tears rolled down the boy’s cheeks, and Shiro’s body tensed. He tried to sit up, furious, attempting to fling the man back but then there was a blossom of heat and with one final, wild noise the master came, and Shiro didn’t stand a chance - the master was older, far stronger and Shiro simply didn’t have the power to unseat him when his every muscle contracted in orgasm.

He could tell when the master started to come down when he let go of the pet’s hair. Unsupported, the boy flopped forward onto Shiro’s chest and lay still, expression glazed.

“Better,” the master said, and Shiro hated him so viciously he could almost see his own rage clouding his vision. “Come now, my sweet boy, you’re crushing our guest.” Wordlessly, the boy slid off Shiro, taking his warmth with him and leaving Shiro feeling bereft. He watched the master hustle him over to the chair, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders and, there it was again - fingers brushing his cheek. This time, however, the boy flinched at the touch, and Shiro saw the master frown for a moment. He repeated the action, and that had the desired reaction - the pet’s eyes slid shut and he tilted his head into the gesture. “Wait a moment. I have to show our guest out.”

He turned and cracked a wolfish grin in Shiro’s direction, crossing back to the bed to tower over Shiro. “My thanks for your time. We enjoyed you, didn’t we?”

There was a pause that went on for a little too long, then, from behind him, a tiny sound of assent.

Bewildered, Shiro stared at the boy, who tucked himself deeper into his blanket and refused to meet Shiro’s eyes.

“Thank our guest,” the master directed, and everything in Shiro was repulsed.

“Thank you, Sir,” the pet said, almost too quietly to be heard.

“You are a worthy winner indeed,” said the older man, taking advantage of Shiro’s momentary disorientation to pull him to his feet. “Please, come with me,” he said blithely, ushering Shiro out the door and pulling it closed behind him.

Shocked, it took a moment for Shiro to regain control over his motor function.

“How could you do that?” he blurted before he could help himself.

The master huffed a laugh. “Don’t be a fool - he plays his part well. Did you hear him refuse?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean-“

“Or, perhaps, a safe word?”

Shiro’s thought process skidded to a halt.

“I didn’t think so. Down, boy,” the master chuckled. “Your concern is charming, but you’re too green. You’ll learn. A little more practice, perhaps. Come again. You won’t have to earn your way in any more - you gave a good show. If you’ll excuse me, you can find your own way out, I have my boy to take care of, you understand. I’ll be in touch.”.

Though the pet’s physicality had seemingly rebelled against it, the master had been right - he hadn’t uttered a word in protest, and Shiro was starting to doubt his perception of the event. The door closed and the lock clicked between them almost before Shiro realised the master had gone.

Following an instinct he couldn’t justify, Shiro dropped to his knees and crept up against the door, pressed his ear against the keyhole to hear something, anything.

“-re so good, I’m so proud of you,” soothed the master. There was a strange sound that was garbled by the door. “I know it was a lot for you, but I knew you could take it. I always know what you can do, even more than you do, don’t I?”

 _Sobbing_. It was sobbing. The pet was sobbing.

“Of course I do. You’re stronger than you think, stronger than anyone thinks.”

A sniff. “Really?” The boy’s voice sounded so young, so hopeful and so _rough_.

“You’re always so good for me, what would I do without you? No-one else has ever been as good as you. You’re so special, sweet boy. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” There was some shuffling and the sound of another door being opened and closed, and then it was silent.

Shiro slumped on the floor, mind reeling. What he’d heard had been nothing short of horrific - though he was no expert, he was certain aftercare was supposed to bring you out of the headspace from a scene, not send you further into it. Wrong, it was all so _wrong_. Shiro was able to walk out the door unscathed, but this was no longer about him - he’d accidentally fallen into someone else’s situation, but he was damned if he was leaving it alone.

Thankfully, once again, he’d been reinvited - in fact, it seemed he’d been practically given a season pass, if he’d interpreted the master’s words correctly. He shook his head, trying to clear it, wondering what to do next. He’d have to clean up, he supposed, and looked down at himself. With a grimace, Shiro was mortified to realise his dick was still out and sporting a condom, but he squinted - in the low light, it was harder to see, but when he reached to pull it off he realised the outside of the condom was wet, in fact, coated. His addled mind raced to work out why, knowing that lube wasn’t that gloopy, before it came to him.

It was semen. Against every rule and all common sense, the master had taken the pet raw, come inside him, and it had taken Shiro until now to realise it. He felt sick. It occurred to him that while the pet hadn’t said no, he’d not been privy to anything involving consent and only had the master’s word to go on - and if there had been safe words, Shiro hadn’t been privy to those, either.

Had the pet even known that, or had he trusted his master to inform Shiro? Shiro couldn’t even bring himself to grapple with the concept that he’d just had sex with someone who may not have had the ability to say no to him - disgusted with himself, utterly disappointed. He was an idiot for listening to anything the master had ever said. Controlling, manipulative, and now this - any doubts as to the master’s nature were blown away, and Shiro’s mind was truly made up.

He was going to get that boy out of there, no matter what it took.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So cosu is a [deity on this earth](http://hardlynotnever.tumblr.com/post/155507640770/rigid-restraints-are-always-fun-insp-from)...
> 
> ...and so is fayheyhey because [holy shit](http://fayheyhey.tumblr.com/post/155492650180/more-bad-boys-is-coming-you-guuuyysssss)...


	9. Chapter 9

All the way back, the night replayed itself in Shiro’s mind, but once home, Shiro considered his next move. The master had definitely violated the Galra’s rules, but the only witnesses were the pet, who would, given the situation, likely side with his master, and Shiro himself. He wasn’t fool enough to think that he’d be able to simply sweep in and break through what could be months’ worth of conditioning with a smile and a gentle touch. The task at hand was three-fold and difficult - find the pet, break the bond between pet and master and undo what had been done to him.

He woke up the next morning with a faint headache, but rearing to go.

He was about to cancel on coffee with Keith that evening, but found Keith had beaten him to the punch with a text asking for a rain check as their last final was that morning and he was planning on collapsing that evening, which was a relief. He responded with a quick good luck text and put Keith out of his mind.

The internet on his block was down, again, so after a scalding hot shower to clear his mind Shiro set out for the library. He had the uneasy feeling like it was possibly better to be searching under a different IP address, in any case - although the logical part of him felt it was paranoia, there was also no arguing that there was no harm to be done by being cautious.

All he had to go on was one clue - Sendak had known the master’s name, and when he’d started to say it, the master had cut him off - Zar-something. That in itself said a lot - the comment one of the other men had made about Sendak being the master’s ‘favourite’ held true enough that he knew his identity, but the context of it was unknown. Sendak could have just breezed in off the street like Shiro and worked his way up, or he could be closer to the master from the start; it was hard to tell. Seated in a corner of the library, Shiro let a little anxious voice in him follow through to using a VPN, and pulled up a search bar.

 

 _Zar_ *

 

Unsurprisingly, that brought up nothing coherent or helpful.

 

_Zar*+master_

 

Unless the master had founded a religion and died in 1936, or Shiro was looking for mySQL query syntax, this wasn’t right. He considered the problem at hand for a moment, before almost kicking himself.

 

_Galra+Zar*_

 

The hit list was far smaller, this time - only two links before Google opened up the search string to suggested other spellings, but he ignored that. The first link was a question in an old-fashioned phpBB forum in a dreadful black and red colour scheme that hurt his eyes trying to read. The board looked to be a fetish forum - there were sections highlighted for different kinks, long-passed meetups, roleplaying etc - the post in question was over ten years old, and the site was a relic, clearly not visited in years.

 

_hey fellow deviants! ]:- > I wondered if anyone knows what happen lord zarkon? His acnt seems deleted. wasnt he a mod before? The galra room seems missing too :-( I miss rping in there…_

 

 _Bingo_. Though it was a long time ago, Lord Zarkon may have been the master’s username at the time. That probably wasn’t very helpful, but it was a start. Shiro read through the few replies, several of them echoing the first post in wondering what had happened, before there was one cryptic answer from someone with admin status.

 

_Heard he’s inside for something big. Don’t go looking. Stay clear of anyone talking about him or anything galra._

 

The site was ancient; its traffic fallen by the wayside not long after that post, which was one of the last threads updated. The thread had been locked after that post, cutting off further discussion, giving nothing else for Shiro to glean. _Zarkon_. The full word alone was enough. He pondered briefly over the phrase “inside for something big”, feeling reassured that if the man had a possible criminal history, then Shiro was all the more justified in his actions.

The second page similarly old, but unhelpful - one singular reference to an ICQ handle. Strange, how a single decade felt like he was trawling through history. Feeling like he’d exhausted his options, Shiro pulled back and started a new search.

 

_Zarkon_

 

At the top of the results list, a sponsored page popped up and Shiro shifted in his seat with excitement - this was it. In total contrast to the previous set of results, the page was a glossy, modern brochure advertising a what could only be a holding company. It boasted representing a number of corporate entities and sent Shiro around in circles for a while until he found a history page, and there he was.

God, Zarkon was his _real name_.

Or at the very least, the name listed - whether he’d changed it at some point, Shiro had no idea, but other than a generic mission statement, all he could discern was that the company had only existed for a few years. It was him, though - Shiro had found something of him, something tangible. He ran the image through a reverse image search and was surprised to find absolutely nothing - the holding company showed what was clearly a successful company, and successful companies ran on the strengths of their leader. Given how naturally charismatic Zarkon showed himself to be in the Galra, it was strange to find little trace of him elsewhere - society parties etc. After that, Shiro’s lack of skill meant the information dried up pretty quickly, and the rest of his research proved ultimately fruitless.

Frustrating, but Shiro knew who to get help from to get more - he’d just have to swear her to secrecy.

* * *

“I need to borrow your sister.”

There was silence from the other end of the line for a long moment. “I trust you implicitly, buddy, but I’m gonna have to ask what on earth for.”

“I need someone better at the internet than me and you said she got a police caution for publicly posting her school exams.”

Matt laughed. “Her finest moment. At least until they made her give back the $4000 she got off other students. Pretty sure the only lesson she took away from that was don’t spend it straight away just in case. You wanna come over here? She’s just finished her last final but she’s coming here for family dinner. You could come?”

Shiro gave it a moment of thought and decided against it - he was far too wired to be able to socialise properly, mind stuck on Zarkon. “Nah, I’m not feeling up to that, my brain’s a little fried and your dad likes to talk a lot.”

“Yeah, he does that, alright.”

“Could she meet me in the library?”

“I’ll get back to you when she replies, but yeah she’d probably do that. Hey, Shiro?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s on your mind? Is everything okay? You sound… weird.” Matt’s voice was full of concern, and Shiro winced, regretting letting his mindset show.

“I’m fine, just got some research that’s stumping me is all.”

“Well, Katie’ll solve that one for you. Don’t work too hard, Shiro. I gotta go, swim team practice soon, last one before Christmas so we’re having a little party. I’ll let you know about Katie, okay?”

“Thanks, man.”

“You got it!”

* * *

Shiro couldn’t have missed her if he’d tried - the spitting image of her brother, down to the same level of unkempt hair Matt sported in his freshman year. Katie barged into the corner of the library, spotting him in a heartbeat and making a beeline straight for him.

“Hey, Shiro.” She dumped her bag and laptop onto the beanbag next to the desk he’d been occupying, shed her jacket, and held her hand out expectantly. For a strange moment, he thought she wanted to shake his hand but then her eyes flitted to the desk.

“Oh! Uhm, good to meet you,” he said as he passed her the can of Monster she’d requested he have waiting for her.

“We’ve met before,” she smiled, adjusting her glasses. “I think you were drunk. Actually, maybe you were passed out on Matt’s couch. You snore,” she said, dismissively, and he grinned.

“Yeah, I do. Good to meet you today, then,” he corrected, and she laughed, cracking open the can and taking a sip. “Thanks for this, by the way.”

“No problem. Having faculty owe me favours is a concept I can get behind.”

Shiro balked. “I’m not-”

As if he hadn’t spoken, she asked, “So, what do you need?”

He sobered, and let his shoulders drop. “I need you to find someone.”

“That’s it?” She quirked an eyebrow, intrigued.

“I think they’re someone who doesn’t want to be found,” Shiro said, watching her eyes brighten. She sat her laptop on her knees. It appeared to dwarf her.

“Ooooooh, now I’m glad you asked. You got a name or just a picture or…?”

For a half-second, Shiro entertained the notion of describing the pet to her, but decided against it - magic though he was in person, reduced to just his features he was dime-a-dozen, and there was little point.

“Zarkon.”

* * *

She worked diligently for a while, absorbed in herself. Shiro lost interest in her screen after a little while, failing to understand what he was looking at - far too many windows open, and from afar the text was incomprehensible without images to pique his attention. He was zoning out, starting to lose hope when-

“This guy is seriously bad news,” she said, startling him back to attention. “Do you know him?”

“No,” Shiro said, a little too quickly. “I don’t, but I need info on him.”

“Do I want to know why?”

Shiro shook his head.

“Yeah, okay. I hope you’re not planning on actually finding this guy in real life, Shiro. He’s a real creep. Let’s see. Age forty-seven, linked with the Russian Mafia.” Shiro sat up straight in his chair, a hollow feeling growing in his stomach. “Been tied to a lot of stuff over the years - drugs and gambling mostly but got busted a few years back for trafficking and did five years. He was running a brothel in LA.” She jabbed the screen with a stubby fingertip, adding a fingerprint over hundreds of others. Shiro didn’t understand what he was looking at.

“Where are you getting this?”

“Police criminal case file,” she answered nonchalantly. Shiro froze.

“Are you… going to get arrested over this?”

“Nah, but even if I was, a) Matt would bail me out and b) I’m a sweet girl-” -she said this while fluttering her eyelashes- “-in a prestigious university course with a dad who does climate science for the government. I’m untouchable,” she said with confidence, and Shiro had to admit she was probably right - she spoke in light of experience, and he wasn’t about to argue. “Anyway, the police think he got dropped after he got put inside. He got out three years ago and disappeared, as far as the police are concerned, but really it’s when he started calling himself Zarkon.” _In real life, perhaps_ , Shiro thought to himself. “He hasn’t been seen with any of his former associates, so they reckon he got cut off, or worse. Missed his parole officer dates a few times. Maybe left the country, or been deep-sixed.” For the first time Shiro understood Keith’s assessment of this girl - the casual manner she dropped a phrase like ‘deep-sixed’ was in stark contrast to her tiny form. He remembered, then, that she came from the same household that produced Matt, and stopped thinking it was weird.

“He’s not,” Shiro started, but she waved her hand.

“I know he’s not. He set up a company here maybe two years ago? Holding company, only photograph I could find of him other than his mugshot when he first got arrested.” She brought it up on screen, and it was the same one Shiro had found the previous day - so he hadn’t been entirely incompetent in that regard. “Probably independent now - seems way more legit than before, pays taxes, everything. Owns a few businesses. Office uptown.” She scribbled the address out for him, adding a second one underneath, along with a phone number. “Lives across the river, Upper East. Whatever he’s been doing since he got out, he’s been keeping it under the radar, but I have no idea how you reform someone who built an empire out of sex trafficking. I definitely don’t think the American prison system is up to it in five years, not someone who was basically keeping people in modern slavery. One of the businesses is some kind of sex club near the docks, so yeah maybe not.”

Shiro shivered at the remark and how close it had hit to home. “How did you find that out? If the police couldn’t find him… you know what, never mind, I don’t want to know.”

She smirked. “Skill.You want me to get his dental records?”

“…No, thanks,” Shiro answered. “You can keep this to yourself, right?”

“Please,” she snorted. “I was never here. You need anything else?”

He considered the question. On the one hand, she could probably get a hold of the membership database from the Galra, and he could maybe find the pet on the list. On the other hand, she’d know why he was interested in Zarkon, and he did not want that association. “No, thank you, Katie. I owe you big.”

“Pidge. My family call me Katie, makes me feel like I’m six years old, or in trouble.”

“Thanks, Pidge.”

Her phone vibrated in her lap and she picked it up, scowling. “Oh for fuck’s sake.”

“Everything okay?” Shiro asked, carefully. She grimaced, looking back at him with a look of utter disappointment.

“Yeah, fine. Apparently ‘sleeping in’ is a valid excuse for missing finals now. I gotta go.” She yanked out the thumb drive from the side of her machine and handed it over to Shiro. “There y’go, that’s everything. If I ever have someone who needs roughing up,” she said, eyes falling to Shiro’s biceps for a moment, “I’ll call you. See ya, Shiro.”

“Take care, Pidge,” he said, waving her off with a grateful smile.

As soon as she was gone, his expression tightened. He stared at the piece of paper in his hand, and realised he had no idea what to do next. He’d found Zarkon - or, more accurately, Pidge had - but he wasn’t sure how to take it further. He knew he had to, though - Zarkon’s rap sheet had been more than frightening enough.

Pidge was right - he hadn’t been reformed, at least not wholly - his behaviour with the pet was frighteningly reminiscent of what he’d been arrested for, only painted up nicely for show. The Galra belonged to the holding company, and so belonged to him - he had free reign within its walls, so getting help from there was a dead-end.

Shiro’s eyes widened as a revelation hit him hard. Zarkon _owned_ the Galra. That was how he’d learned Shiro’s name - he’d simply gone through the members list and found Shiro. The answer was so stunningly simple he almost kicked himself, but then, he’d had no way of knowing at the time - in retrospect, the ridiculous set-pieces, clearly custom-made to his personal tastes; it seemed obvious in context. Worryingly, it also meant he had access to Shiro’s address and phone number, as they’d been required information. Making a move suddenly became a lot harder.

 _Slavery_. It made a sickening sort of sense. Having seen Zarkon with the pet, having experienced what happened last night, Shiro could believe it. Zarkon might have gone quiet on the legal front, perhaps even become legitimate, but one thing was certain.

It was, it seemed, harder to give up being called Master.

* * *

The next morning, Shiro was up early, arm aching with a phantom pain he’d not felt in a very long time. Eschewing painkillers, he chose the physical therapy option, hitting the gym and pushing himself harder than he had in years, working his stress out until he was bone-weary and falling into the shower. He marched out refreshed and ready, mind focused on the task before him. Spending the remainder of the morning poring over Zarkon’s case file, all thoughts of food vanished as he read and processed as much as he could, forming a fuller picture of what was happening. It was afternoon before he realised it, so lost in what he was doing, and his phone had buzzed three times before it finally managed to break through his concentration. It was Keith, finally responding to the last message Shiro had sent yesterday that had gone unread, presumably because he’d crashed post-final.

 

**From: Keith**

**hey, sorry about yesterday I died. Im awake now. Yeh I think I did ok, wasnt hard. U ok?**

 

Shiro’s cheeks lifted as he read the response - just as he’d suspected.

 

**To: Keith**

**Glad to hear it. Yeah I’m fine. Did you want to grab coffee today? I’m free now**

 

**From: Keith**

**I cant I promised to help out hunk - lance missed his fking final because he overslept, moron. Corans letting him retake on wednesday so were gonna help him study. U should come help, mr teaching assistant**

 

That rang a bell - understanding of Pidge’s then-random complaint from last night dawning on him. This was the same kid that Keith had complained about beating him in the mid-term results, so simply oversleeping seemed like a dumb excuse, but Shiro had seen it happen - Matt had once stayed up all night studying and slept right through his alarm, and it was his previous good record that had saved him; easily persuading the same professor to let him retake said exam the next day.

 

**To: Keith**

**That’s nice of you :) Think he’ll need much help?**

 

The reply was instant.

 

**From: Keith**

**Who knows, hes a fucking disaster I stg >.> itll be good practice plus hunk is a genius cook and hes in full mom mode over lance so that means lots of food and theres no way well be able to eat it all**

 

A subpar cook, if there was an easy way to rope Shiro into anything, it was the promise of free food. On cue, his stomach growled, unfed all day, and his decision was made for him.

 

**To: Keith**

**Alright, I’ll drop by for a little bit and see if there’s anything I can help with, okay?**

 

**From: Keith**

**Cool, block 4, room 212. Im going over at like 3**

 

**To: Keith**

**See you later**

 

Stopping by home to pick up his copy of an out-of-print book that was far more useful than anything currently available (and was consequently hoarded by teaching staff the country over, thus making it impossible for students to get their hands on), Shiro found himself standing outside the designated room a little after three. He could hear a mess of voices from inside, rowdy already. He smiled to himself; Keith might be reticent when it came to relating details of his friends, but he could hear the boy laughing through the door, spluttering in mock-outrage.

_“-No that was_ **_mine_ ** _, I took a drink out of it already! What if narcolepsy is contagious?”_

_“Even if it was, which it’s not, then it would be the other way around, Keith,”_ came Pidge’s voice, impatient.

 _“Yeah so it’s mine now, Mullet,”_ said an new voice. _“You don’t want my sleep cooties, do you?”_ He laughed, and it wasn’t a new voice at all. He’d only heard three ridiculous words in that voice before, illicitly whispered, but they’d seared themselves into his memory.

Shiro felt like his throat was closing up. _Not possible_.

Urgency made Shiro rap a little too hard on the door before he’d even realised he was moving. His earlier pain was banished as every nerve ending leapt to life and buzzed, making him antsy and it seemed to take far too long for someone to answer. The door swung open eventually, revealing Keith. He looked pleased to see Shiro, but Shiro acknowledged him on autopilot, looking immediately past him into the room. Time seemed to slow as he saw first Pidge giving him an acknowledging nod, then, behind her, a larger, dark-skinned boy wearing an flour-dusted apron and rising to greet him. Hunk, if he’d correctly interpreted what Keith had told him earlier. Finally-

 _There_.

There was no mistaking him - all along, Shiro had thought that without a mask, he’d never have recognised him, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. Clad in a threadbare hoodie at least a size too large and a pair of sun-faded board shorts (in early December, mind), laughter died in his throat as he looked up and met Shiro’s eyes. Shiro knew him in an instant. Shiro stared at the pet, and the pet stared right back at Shiro, horrified recognition on both ends. Keith was talking, but the only thing Shiro was processing was _here, he’s here, he’s HERE_

“Uh, everyone, this is Shiro, Shiro, you know Pidge, but this is Hunk, and Lance.” Hunk gave a little wave and a polite smile, but Lance still hadn’t moved - he’d paled, and Shiro could see his hands trembling where they rested on his knees. Under his clenched fists, Shiro could see the barest edge of a a telltale fading rope burn just where the hem of his shorts rode up.

“Hi, Lance,” Shiro heard himself saying, not sure what part of his brain had managed to function enough to have speech. _Right there, he’s_ ** _safe_** _-_

“Hi,” Lance managed to return after an elbow in the ribs from Pidge. “Shiro,” he said after a second, colour finally returning to his face, led by a heavy flush in his cheeks. Pretty with a mask, prettier without; even with the darkened eye-sockets of one for whom sleep was a laughable concept, Lance was every bit as stunning in plain real life as the perfect fantasy he played in the Galra, if not moreso.

“Nice to meet you,” Shiro said softly. “Face to face.”

Beside him, he felt Keith frown, but he couldn’t have cared less if he tried, instead, feeling every part of him rejoice as a slow smile spread across Lance’s face and his eyes lit up in a way Shiro knew intimately. Taking advantage of the fact that all eyes were on Shiro, Lance moved his lips, and Shiro grinned.

 _Face to dick_ , Lance mouthed, finally letting out the giggle he’d suppressed almost two days previously, and all Shiro wanted was to hear him laugh forever. He’d do it too, he realised, feeling the truth of that solidify into something concrete, a new part of himself - like it had been a decision he’d made and only just understood. Whatever it took, he’d do it.

Even if it meant taking on Zarkon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Lance in his robe](http://auroura101.tumblr.com/post/155608450027/he-was-beautiful-and-shiro-was-so-so-weak) by auroura  
> [Lance having a fun time with his super nice bf](http://fayheyhey.tumblr.com/post/155714398940/jenny-asked-me-to-post-it-so-bam-from-chapter-8-of) by fayheyhey


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally well enough to start working on fics again :)

“Yeah, we’ve heard a lot about you from Keith,” Hunk said cheerfully, and Shiro was reminded where they were - pulled out of the momentary dream where he was in a room with _the pet_ and instead followed Lance’s lead, expression slackening into something easy and friendly.

“Same,” Shiro said, digging his elbow into Keith’s upper arm. “For a grump he’s surprisingly chatty.” He walked into the room and took in the spread of food around them - Keith had been right, there was going to be leftovers for days, even with him and his recent gym-spurred uptake in appetite. “Holy moly, when Keith said there was going to be food he didn’t say a feast, this is incredible! Hunk, this is you, right?”

“Yeah!” Hunk replied, acknowledging Shiro with a nod. “Least I can do. Hey, thanks for coming. Lance needs all the help he can get.”

“Do not!” Indignant.

 _Yes you do,_ Shiro thought to himself, but it was strange, that they thought Lance needed help with the part of his life he was somehow managing to mostly hold together in the face of everything else.

Though, now he thought about it, Hunk wasn’t entirely wrong - from what Keith had said previously, Lance had been regularly skipping the days after the Galra evenings and now missing out on a final, but that was unsurprising - Sunday had been _brutal_. Between being yanked to pieces to double penetration at no notice, Shiro had no idea how Lance was even sitting upright, but he looked comfortably settled next to Pidge for now.

“Well you’re gonna get it,” Keith groused, “So be grateful. Shiro’s taking time out from researching his Masters right now.”

“Thank you Shiro,” Lance said in a belligerently childish tone, but there was warmth in his eyes. “Pidge, pass me the chicken wings, we can start now that Shiro’s here.” Shiro had never loved the sound of his own name so much.

Keith passed Shiro and directed him to a seat, and it was all Shiro could do not to openly stare at Lance. Strange, how he’d seen Lance nude but this felt far, far more intimate - he was less of a concept and now a full person with a life and friends and a laugh. His lithe frame poked out from under the swathe of his hoodie, sharp angles that gave away the swimmer’s build Shiro already knew.

… _Oh._

It hit Shiro suddenly that one Monday a month and a lone final weren’t the only things Lance was missing out on.

“No problem, Keith might have said but I’m starting as TA from January with Coran so it can be like a test run,” he said, taking a wing from the plate as Pidge offered it to him, pointedly delaying its route to Lance who pulled a mock-incensed face, and fuck, Shiro had it bad. “This is good,” he said, a moment before he bit through the perfectly-crispy skin. “Oh. Oh wow,” he said, only slightly exaggerating his reaction to fit in a little more. “This is amazing. Is the rest of this going to be like this?” he asked, mouth starting to water.

“You bet it is,” Lance said, standing and reaching over the back of the couch to lock an arm around Hunk’s shoulders, “My man Hunk here is an undiscovered genius and we gotta keep him that way in case a culinary school finds him and kidnaps him and makes him the new Gordon Ramsey. Right now he’s a Guy Fieri and I would live the rest of my life on his paella alone, so I’m happy to keep at this stage.” The diminished plate of wings finally reached Lance and he tore into it, swooning dramatically as he fell back into his seat. “Hunk, my dude, my guy, you may have my hand.” He’d fallen heavily but seemed to slow last second, dropping onto the couch with a soft poof.

Just a flicker, but it was there - Lance winced with the impact and dropped his eyes, unable to meet Shiro’s burning stare.

Lance was still acting. In the club he played the perfect submissive, and here, now, he was playing himself, as though he wasn’t in pain. In both places, he kept it up well - he certainly held all at the Galra in sway (with the commanding aid of Zarkon), and it seemed his friends were fooled, but Shiro had his number on both counts.

“Maybe if you hadn’t called me Guy Fieri,” Hunk said with a huff, but Shiro could tell he was pleased - around him, everyone was eating, passing plates around, and Hunk sat in the centre sneaking happy glances at the rest of them. His gaze turned concerned when he lingered over Lance, and Shiro wondered if he wasn’t he only one to see through Lance’s facade.

For a split-second, Shiro rewound the conversation in his head and realised the one biggest thing he didn’t know about Lance - whether or not he had a relationship outside of the Galra. That dumped a load of ice water on Shiro’s momentary joy.

“Or if Hunk wasn’t straight and Lance wasn’t hopeless,” Pidge chimed in, tone light but cutting, and Shiro felt himself breathe easier.

“I’m not hopeless!”

Shiro almost choked.

“Lance you have swung and missed on everyone you’ve hit on all semester. Your dick’s probably shrivelled up inside the rest of your body now,” Pidge continued mercilessly, and Shiro had to cover himself from reacting. He could feel his own cheeks flushing hot but Lance’s face was a picture of insult and he was laughing, then, the ludicrous whole truth of Lance so in conflict with how each part of his life viewed him.

“Can we maybe focus on getting some work done?” Keith said, irritated, eyebrow twitching. “I’m bored of hearing about Lance’s non-existent sex life,” he went on, and Shiro had to applaud how he managed to throw down _and_ end the discussion while appearing the superior mature party in one statement. He was getting better. Shiro would have been prouder if Keith wasn’t so entirely incorrect.

Not that Keith would ever know that.

“That… sounds like a good idea,” Hunk said in the most tired voice Shiro had ever heard, and Shiro knew then that this was a common topic. Were it anything else, Shiro would have loved to have leapt to Lance’s defence, but there was simply no way he could point out that _their_ Lance, hopelessly unsuccessful, was also _his_ Lance, prize showpiece pet.

They fell into the topic, and Shiro immediately saw what Keith had seen - Lance was definitely a fiddler. He didn’t make a single note, instead occupying his hands by taking the end off his pen, sliding out the spring and replacing it, over and over, but he was definitely listening - however, even Shiro could see he was slightly bored. After a while, it occurred to Shiro that he was probably bored because he already knew it - he hadn’t missed the final because he didn’t know the material, he missed it because of what happened in the Galra, but then, perhaps, today was more than just that - Keith had mentioned it was Hunk who had organised this, which means the guy was probably perceptive enough to pick up on Lance’s pattern. Once a month wasn’t _that_ hard to spot.

In what felt like no time, several hours passed comfortably and it was getting into the evening. Shiro watched the conversation around him change from studious to casual, and, to his dismay, he realised that he would soon outstay his welcome, even though he was sure Hunk and Keith would probably insist otherwise. This was an established friend group, though, and he was on the periphery. He’d have to leave soon.

He didn’t want to leave without some way to contact Lance. He couldn’t ask anyone for his number afterwards, and he couldn’t just ask Lance up front, either, especially not in front of everyone. He was stuck - but maybe, maybe he could ask Coran - they were in his class, after all, maybe it wouldn’t be too suspicious to ask for an email address, if he asked for the entire class’s email addresses..?

It took him a few seconds to realise Lance was talking, and a few more to process what had been said.

“…Totally beat, you guys broke my brain,” he whined.

“Can’t break what doesn’t exist,” Pidge snorted, elbowing Shiro in the gut. He tried to smile, but the word ‘break’ sat heavy inside him.

“I don’t think you’re gonna have a problem with the makeup,” he managed finally in the most adult-iest tone he could summon, and Lance gave him a grateful smile.

“Yeah, see? Shiro says I’m gonna be fine so!” He followed the statement up by throwing up two fingers aimed at Pidge.

“Shiro’s just being nice. That’s what he does,” Keith cut in, and Lance shifted on the couch a little.

“Yeah, I can tell,” Lance responded drily. Shiro’s stomach twisted in that now-familiar way, the meaning hanging between them, untouched by anyone else. “I’ve eaten my own bodyweight in food, I’ve got notes bleeding out my ears and I need to pee so bad. Can I go home now?”

“I gotta go meet my brother so I’m out,” Pidge agreed. I think we’ve given Lance no excuses for fucking up,” she smirked, and it gave Shiro the opportunity to chime in with,

“I think it’s about time I was going, too.”

Keith gave a tiny, prideful smile. “Thanks for coming, Shiro. You really helped.”

“Not so sure, buddy, I think you guys had it covered, but it was good, and the food was great, I don’t think I’m gonna need to eat for a week!” Hunk laughed and the tiniest edge of warmth coloured the edge of his cheeks.

“It was nothing, really…” he said, but Lance had already hooked an arm around his neck.

“Aw, you made Hunk blushy,” he cooed. “Hunk loves it when people loves his food. Why he isn’t in culinary school I will never understand. Maybe there was nothing left to teach him.”

“Makes sense,” Pidge agreed.

“Anyway,” Lance said, shifting to turn the arm-hook into a full hug, “Thanks, guys. Now I know if I miss it you’re all going to murder me so thanks for the extra pressure!” He was laughing as he said it, and Shiro couldn’t help but be pleased by how Hunk’s big arms came up to squeeze Lance briefly.

“That was the idea,” Keith said, eyes widening as Lance moved like a blur. He froze in Lance’s sudden hug, and it was all Shiro could do to contain himself.

“You’ll be regretting it when I get a better score than you,” Lance grinned. “Again.”

Keith’s lips pursed. “I’m regretting it already,” he huffed, and Lance let him go to move onto Pidge, but behind his back, Keith’s ears reddened. Lance hugged Pidge and she returned the gesture, giving him a punch on his upper arm as he moved back, then he was turning towards Shiro.

Oh.

Oh, _yes_.

Their eyes met. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna leave you out,” Lance chuckled, an adequate cover, but his eyes were sparkling - he threw one arm over Shiro’s shoulder and the other around his waist. Shiro let him sink into his embrace, surprised at how different Lance felt - naked in the Galra Lance had always felt warm, but the skin of Lance’s cheek against Shiro’s own was cool, cold almost. Nevertheless, Shiro hugged him back. “Thanks, Shiro,” he murmured, and Shiro shivered slightly, before he almost yelped - Lance was _squeezing his ass,_ where the others couldn’t see. The sheer boldness of it made Shiro actually laugh, so very Lance, it seemed. He was learning.

Shiro was _learning Lance_.

“No problem,” he responded as Lance pulled away. “Any time.”

“Soooooo I’m gonna go sleep for like, two days, so I don’t oversleep tomorrow,” Lance called, shifting from beside Shiro towards the door.

“If you’re gonna go, stop wearing out your goodbyes,” Pidge said, sidelining him and shoving him forwards. He stumbled slightly, allowing her to manhandle him through the yanked-open door, and with a last wave, there was a slam and the room quietened.

Keith looked sheepishly at him. “So… uh…”

“Your friends are very nice, Keith,” Shiro mustered. “Thanks for inviting me. I’m glad I got to meet them, but I’d better be going, now.”

“Thank you for coming,” Keith said, again, flush reaching his face this time.

“Any time,” Shiro said for the second time in a minute.

He was all the way home and tossing his jeans aside when he finally noticed the slip of paper in the back pocket - brows furrowed, Shiro reached over and picked it up, disbelief settling heavy, a low ache he knew all to well by now.

A phone number - what could only be Lance’s phone number.

 _Sneaky little asshole_ , Shiro smiled to himself as he grabbed his phone from the bedside table.

* * *

**To: not in contacts**

**Hi - your number was in my back pocket?**

 

Three dots started jumping almost straight away.

 

**From: not in contacts**

**Oh my god ive been waiting like all evening hi shiro! It’s Lance**

 

**To: Lance**

**I didn’t realise you feeling me up was just a cover for giving me your number**

 

The reply took a moment.

 

**From: Lance**

**Bit of both. So hi, this is weird**

 

Shiro laughed out loud at that - he’d had a feeling Lance would be oddly honest.

 

**To: Lance**

**Definitely. I feel like there’s so much I want to say and I don’t really know where to start**

 

**From: Lance**

**Same, honestly. I think this is the first time ive ever thought to myself ‘oh its that hot guy from the sex club’**

 

There were worse ways to be described, Shiro felt.

 

**To: Lance**

**You know that’s the strangest thing, that happened to me too today. Saw this really hot guy from a sex club too and I think I swallowed my own tongue but I don’t think he noticed.**

 

**From: Lance**

**Secret’s safe with me, long as you don’t let slip I was like semi the entire time he was there**

 

Shiro sat up in surprise. He took long enough to recover from that revelation that his phone buzzed in his hand before he had a chance to reply.

 

**From: Lance**

**…That was too far wasnt it? I’m sorry im a disaster I always go too far lilke an iidot im sorry pls ignore me**

 

**To: Lance**

**No it’s okay**

 

Shiro paused for a second, trying to decide how to put the complex reaction he’d had into words.

 

**To: Lance**

**It just took me by surprise so I took too long to respond, I’m sorry.**

 

**From: Lance**

**No dont be sorry!!! It was kinda awkward**

 

**To: Lance**

**I think the first conversation we have is allowed to be kind of awkward, that’s okay, right?**

 

**From: Lance**

**Yeah definitely lol. Man how weird is it that we know the same people tho**

 

**To: Lance**

**I guess this is what people mean when they say it’s a small world. Keith’s been talking about you for months and I didn’t realise it was you all along.**

 

**From: Lance**

**…Oh, great, so I have to contend with keiths opinion of me now >.> amazing this is the worst thing in the history of humanity**

 

It was hard not to laugh at that. Keith’s opinion on Lance was belligerent at best but there was a grudging respect there - or at the very least, a competitive streak.

 

**To: Lance**

**The fact that Keith talks about you at all is enough. He’s not really had friends before.**

 

**From: Lance**

**Yeah thats pretty obvious. I thought hed be cooler. Well like hes kinda cool but also a really weird nerd too. Maybe one day he’ll blossom into a beautful social butterfly**

 

**To: Lance**

**I can but hope**

 

**From: Lance**

**Yeh dream on**

* * *

Three a.m. came and went, as did four a.m. In the space of a few short hours, Shiro knew far, far more about Lance than he’d ever dared to dream. Lance was forthcoming with information - Shiro had heard enough to piece together a middle child in a large family. He never once mentioned high school or childhood friends - his family dominated any stories. The only friends he mentioned were those made thus far in college, and Shiro got the sense they were the first friends he’d ever truly had.

Shiro had also come to the conclusion that Lance was a lot like Keith in several ways - striving to prove himself, to carve his own identity, though Keith wore his intent on his sleeve while Lance’s was quieter, hidden behind a brash, goofy front. At one point the subject of Shiro and Keith’s mutual scholarship came up, and Lance mentioned how applying for scholarships was a nightmare process but worth it - a rapid of acronyms and Shiro discovered Lance was in receipt of _three_ different awards - combined totalling less than Shiro and Keith’s did, but then theirs were for very specific circumstances. Shiro’s respect - and affection - for Lance only grew, at that.

Lance loved to talk - endlessly about family, about school but pointedly ignoring the elephant in the room - though they’d mentioned it at the start, the reason they knew each other had yet to come up again and though Shiro was thoroughly enjoying listening to Lance tell stories about his oldest sister’s first drunken arrest, he wanted to know more.

Luckily, Lance gave him a sideways opening, and Shiro decided to run bull-headed into it.

 

**From: Lance**

**no but seriously she was too scared to go clubbing but shes quite happy to get drunk in her friend’s friend’s house when she knew one person there**

**honestly I have no idea**

 

**To: Lance**

**Doesn’t sound very like you**

 

**From: Lance**

**huh?**

 

**To: Lance**

**Afraid to go clubbing - not something you share**

 

**From: Lance**

**oh yeah ;) definitely not me**

 

He pushed it.

 

**To: Lance**

**Confession? First time in the Galra I was fucking terrified.**

**More naked people than I’ve ever seen in my entire life.**

 

**From: Lance**

**dude same at least you got to keep your clothes on not all of us got that luxury**

 

Shiro snorted a laugh - he was beyond exhausted but wired in a way that meant the letters on the screen were burning his eyes a little.

 

**To: Lance**

**How did you even know that? You were blindfolded**

 

**From: Lance**

**shiro you were balls fucking deep in my ass I could feel your pants rubbing**

 

 _Tears_.

It took Shiro so long to stop laughing that another message arrived while he was wiping his eyes.

 

**From: Lance**

**oooookay so that’s the most inappropriate thing Ive ever said I am soso sorry**

 

**To: Lance**

**Don’t worry I was just laughing very hard**

 

**From: Lance**

**oh thank god**

**this is okay, right?**

 

A sudden sobering question, waking Shiro right the fuck up. The text on his screen became clearer as he focused.

 

**To: Lance**

**It’s definitely okay.**

**More than okay.**

 

**From: Lance**

**oh good**

 

For some reason, Shiro felt that was a quieter moment of acceptance.

It didn’t last long.

 

**From: Lance**

**so sorry I didnt say goodbye on sunday that was kinda assholish, but thanks you were great**

 

Shiro froze. In the bouyant dream that had been the last few hours, the chaos of Sunday had been all but forgotten but now it rushed back to the forefront of his mind. He remembered Lance’s face twist in utter shock, physically remembered the weight of him, collapsed against Shiro’s chest. With alarming clarity, he recalled the sound of Lance crying.

 

**To: Lance**

**You weren’t assholish at all. Were you okay? A lot happened.**

 

Understatement of the millennium.

 

**From: Lance**

**lol im fine, nbd. Were you worried about me? ;)**

 

**To: Lance**

**You looked about three seconds away from passing out, yeah I was worried.**

 

**From: Lance**

**awwww you were worried abuot meeeeeeeee**

 

Something about that felt… oddly disingenuous. Lance talked cocky sometimes (something even Keith had noticed enough to complain about, long before Shiro even understood the context), but there was always a slight separation involved - Shiro had noticed his ‘arrogance’ usually involved inconsequential brags. This was different.

 

**To: Lance**

**Lance you were crying**

 

The reply took a long, long minute.

 

**From: Lance**

**all part of the scene, my dude**

 

Shiro shook his head, clearing the last fog of sleepiness from his vision.

 

**To: Lance**

**It didn’t feel like that. It felt like it was too much.**

 

**From: Lance**

**nah if it was too much zarkon wouldve stopped**

 

There it was. Though Shiro had never doubted Pidge’s research, the confirmation was singularly jolting. Not wanting to scare Lance away, but equally unwilling to drop the topic, Shiro considered his words carefully. Inspiration struck him as he mentally ran over Zarkon’s last words to him.

 

**To: Lance**

**I’m still new at this so forgive my ignorance, but I thought it was up to you to say when it got too much. Like, with a safe word or something.**

 

**From: Lance**

**pfffft I don’t have safe words**

 

Shiro’s instincts had been right on the money. He felt utterly sick.

 

**To: Lance**

**What do you mean? I thought safe words were the first basic step**

 

**From: Lance**

**maybe for people who have shit doms but ive got zarkon ;) we dont need safe words, he knows me really well**

**hes like a pro dom? waaaaay more experienced than anyone else there.**

**he knows the owner and everything, thats how he gets all the stuff built for him he says, because hes been going there for years.**

**safe words are for like casual play anyway when you dont know the other person**

 

That sounded smooth enough to be almost verbatim from Zarkon himself - he recognised the tone of almost-reasonable, an argument that almost sounded like it held up. It made a strange sort of sense, like many of Zarkon’s other promises. He could see how carefully Zarkon had manipulated the situation - telling Lance safe words were unnecessary, amateurish, playing to Lance’s desire for achievement and acceptance, while using his resultant-silence as false evidence of Lance’s consent. He’d managed to deftly erase Lance’s own agency from the equation, so neatly that Lance himself did not realise it.

Shiro had to be very careful. He was the one person other than Zarkon who saw both sides, but he couldn’t very well wade in - he’d have to find a way to let Lance gently awaken to reality.

 

**To: Lance**

**I see. I didn’t know it could work like that**

 

**From: Lance**

**yeh im pretty lucky tbh**

 

That was a wall Shiro would have to go around, rather than break down, for now.

 

**To: Lance**

**Are your legs okay? Those rope burns looked sore. Have they been healing okay?**

 

**From: Lance**

**awwww shiro, you’re so concerned its nice**

 

 _No, it’s a basic fucking minimum_ , Shiro thought to himself.

 

**To: Lance**

**I just think it’s a little rough when you have to recover, that’s all.**

 

**From: Lance**

**im fine :) part of the whole thing really. athletes have to recover after they've done stuff right?**

 

**To: Lance**

**Yeah, they do. Ibuprofen might help**

 

**From: Lance**

**hadnt thought of that - ill get some tomorrow. or today I guess!!**

**shit shiro its almost 5am I better sleep I have that makeup at 10 and I think pidge and**

**keith will actually gut me if I miss it again**

 

Shiro wished he could point out that athletes weren't expected to miss academics but it would take time to work up to that, he felt. Perhaps the juxtaposition of the conversation would occur to Lance on his own.

 

**To: Lance**

**I… did not realise.**

 

A small white lie.

 

**To: Lance**

**Definitely sleep - Keith is okay but frankly Pidge is kind of terrifying.**

 

**From: Lance**

**yeah but none of them can compete with Hunk when hes disappointed so**

**im gonna play it totally safe and get some sleep ok?**

**was nice talking to you though shiro**

 

**To: Lance**

**Sleep well, Lance. Nice talking to you too.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a little bridge chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very, very short update - next one will be pretty long, but I have zine pieces I wanted to work on and when this finally went my way I wanted to get it straight out there!  
> Thank you for your patience and kind words - I've recovered pretty well, though still have some way to go, hence update schedule!

Somewhere in the middle of the next week, Shiro looked at himself in the mirror and was surprised by what looked back at him - dark circles lining his eyes from far, far too much late night texting and even more thesis hours to make up for that, but he looked better than he could remember - he looked well. More than that, he looked _happy_.

The week went by without Shiro mustering up the courage to ask to meet Lance in person, and neither of them mentioned it - there was a delicate barrier hanging between them still, the very idea of being alone together too intimate to approach. By now, Shiro was able to admit to himself why - there was a certain way things were supposed to be, a status quo that he had no idea how to change, but he knew he wanted to - wanted to get Lance out from under Zarkon’s thumb, wanted him to have the freedom to make his own choices, hoped wildly that Lance would choose him if he had the opportunity. The last one was a quiet hope - the little selfish thought, glowing like a banked down fire beneath the coals, ready to grow at any opportunity.

Zarkon had not come up again - they’d talked about anything and everything else in the meantime, casually about each other’s day, Lance talking a lot about his family. Despite how much he could talk, Lance was a good listener, Shiro had discovered - he’d spent half an hour explaining his thesis concept to Lance, who’d listened attentively and, despite lacking a degree in the relevant material, still understood enough to ask decent questions. Explaining it to someone who wasn’t Coran actually helped Shiro order it better as he had to make it comprehensible.

 

**From: Lance**

**why is airport coffee so shitty, I love hunk but I dunno if I can forgive him for this**

 

**To: Lance**

**He’s gone home then?**

 

**From: Lance**

**yeah like ten minutes ago and I regret this coffee so intensely**

 

**To: Lance**

**Worse than library coffee?**

 

**From: Lance**

**when you ask for an americano and they have to look at the board to remember what that is I think youre starting out bad**

 

**To: Lance**

**…Oh, god. You have my condolences.**

**When are you going home?**

 

**From: Lance**

**i’m on my way now**

 

Shiro frowned at his screen. Lance told him every fine detail of his day - surely he wouldn’t have omitted something as big as a flight.

 

**To: Lance**

**I didn’t realise you were going home so soon. Good thing Hunk was going out at the same time as you. Have they got wifi on your flight?**

 

**From: Lance**

**I now see what you meant by ‘when are you going home’ dude im on the bus back to campus lol**

 

 _Oh_.

Oops.

 

**To: Lance**

**Okay I’m laughing**

 

**From: Lance**

**same honestly**

 

**To: Lance**

**When ARE you going home?**

 

**From: Lance**

**in a few days!**

 

**To: Lance**

**Which day? I can give you a ride to the airport if you wanted.**

 

**From: Lance**

**didnt know you had a car!**

 

**To: Lance**

**It’s nothing fancy, gets me from point A to B**

 

**From: Lance**

**shiro anything with you in it is automatically fancy**

 

He was deflecting, Shiro realised, stomach lurching. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that Lance was good at that - it was only by pure dumb luck that Shiro was privy to more aspects of Lance’s life than most, but he’d been arrogant enough to assume that that had given him an understanding with Lance. He swallowed down the burgeoning feeling of hurt as the notion slipped away.

 

**To: Lance**

**Ha ha. Seriously, what day?**

 

**From: Lance**

**Ur not busy? arent you going anywhere for christmas?**

 

 _Please don’t do this_ , Shiro thought to himself. He didn’t want to push too hard, because acting entitled to Lance’s life made him no better than Zarkon, but he was operating on rising fear.

 

**To: Lance**

**Only the Holts, I go most years. I get to take Keith this year.**

 

**From: Lance**

**You picked keith as a dinner date?**

 

**To: Lance**

**The Holts have had me over for Christmas since I first started college. Before that it had been a few years since I’d had a normal Christmas. I don’t think Keith’s ever had one.**

 

**From: Lance**

**oh**

**thats really nice actually**

**amazing how such a nice family made pidge**

**or scary, actually**

**definitely gives weight to that ‘nature vs nurture’ argument**

**itll be good for mullet!! i hope you guys have a good time**

 

There was nothing else for it.

 

**To: Lance**

**Lance if you don’t want me to give you a ride, that’s okay, you can just say so. I don’t mind.**

 

The reply was instant.

 

**From: Lance**

**nononono its not that! sorrysorry!**

**im just not sure what day it is yet so I cant tell you what day but yeah a ride would be good even without innuendo**

**youre too nice shiro**

 

Christmas was in one week. The conversation about scholarships they’d had what felt like weeks ago, but was in reality only a week past, told Shiro that the chance of Lance being able to afford a last-minute flight home was less than zip.

 

**To: Lance**

**Haven’t you booked your flight yet?**

 

**From: Lance**

**im gonna tomorrow! Dont worry**

 

**To: Lance**

**Why so late?**

 

The moment Shiro hit send, he felt the distinct tightness in his throat that told him he’d gone over the line - a hot curl of nervy discomfort that sat low, growing while he waited for a response. In the short gap between the message coming up as Read and Lance starting to type a response, Shiro knew for the first time in his life what true anxiety felt like.

 

**From: Lance**

**should be getting a transfer through tomorrow so i can book it then :P nbd**

 

Instinct getting the better of him, Shiro opened his browser and pulled up a flight search engine. As he’d suspected, any flights available before Christmas were first class only, and prohibitively expensive.

The knot grew.

 

**To: Lance**

**Are you sure you’re able to afford it? I didn’t think your scholarships covered home travel, did they?**

 

**From: Lance**

**nah they dont but its fine, i earned it ;)**

**well im about to anyway**

**hurhurhur**

**;)**

 

The words on the screen burned, Lance’s lighthearted jest suffocated by dreadful understanding. His pulse thundered in his ears as he debated an answer - wary of saying the wrong thing but dreadfully aware that silence was the worst message of all.

 

**To: Lance**

**Is Zarkon paying you?**

 

**From: Lance**

**no! i mean kinda. he hasnt before but he said he would get me my flight home as a present**

**my mama is gonna lose her shit when she sees me**

**definitely cant tell her its my sugar daddy l m a oooooo**

 

Shiro knew jack shit about sugar daddies and babies but he knew that was nothing close to whatever Lance had with Zarkon. He certainly knew that gifts did not need to be _earned_.

 

**To: Lance**

**About to?**

 

**From: Lance**

**oh he’s having like a party thing with some clients**

 

Everything stopped. Something was different - Lance had been to the Galra multiple times, willingly, but his purposeful vagueness and avoidance, coupled with the promise of a lavish gift, spun a different story - if Zarkon had never needed to pay Lance before, then why now? What had changed?

Perhaps nothing. Perhaps this was what Zarkon had been leading towards from the beginning. Lance was homesick as hell, and what better way to have him under thumb with than using the promise of seeing his family? It was easy enough to spin it into an act of benevolence, if looked at the right way, and Shiro had no doubt that’s precisely what Zarkon had done. _A party_. _Clients_. Shiro had an awful feeling that Lance was fully aware what that truly meant.

 

**To: Lance**

**Are you okay with that?**

 

**From: Lance**

**lol who are you talking to**

 

**To: Lance**

**Lance. Are you okay with that?**

_(Read 14.24)_


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro goes after Lance. Mind how you go, this chapter is not kind.

The whole drive down to the docks, Shiro’s heart was in his throat, thumping painfully. The sun was long set by now, traffic almost non-existent as his headlights only met flashes of silver-grey snowflakes, settling on the ground behind his car as he sped downtown.

_come on come on_ **_come on_ **

Every other time he’d been to the Galra, Shiro had taken a cab or a bus for anonymity’s sake, nerves tingling as he watched the streets go by. This time, he was filled with dread, the journey seeming to take far longer than ever before. He felt his teeth clench when the warehouse finally came into view, a vaguely imposing shape against the blackness of the harbour behind. Once his car was stashed a little ways away, he made his way towards the Galra, keeping to the shadows as best he could. Instantly, he saw that the front entrance was a no-go - the usual bouncer was flanked by two more, and they would probably recognise him. A warehouse that big would probably have other entrances, anyway - an emergency exit or two to make it fire code compliant. He could hear the faintest muffled noise of music from inside - far quieter than usual, which didn’t tally with the increased door security.

Barely noticing the cold, Shiro was glad of the snowfall as it masked his footsteps, allowing him to circle the building with relative ease. He passed several vents as he hurried past the first long wall, hearing the more familiar sounds of peaked pleasure, muffled but obvious. There were no fire exits along that side - unusual, in a building of that size, but then the entire docks area had fallen into social decay some decades previously, and it was now crawling its way out that on the back of the east waterfront becoming a centre of hipster food development. The Galra, however, was on the western side, almost entirely isolated from that; its age was authentic. The building itself belied its plush interior - initially Shiro suspected that was for discretion but now he wondered if it was to keep it under the radar.

The back wall yielded a success, and he almost felt the spike in adrenaline as he spotted a fire escape structure, with a corresponding door on each floor. Picking up his pace, he approached the lowermost door, giving it a cursory, then a hefty shove, finding that like most fire escapes it only opened from the inside, and wouldn’t budge. Disappointment gave way to despair as he backed up to look up at the four visible doors for each storey - all shut tight.

Panic forced its way into his heart, his throat, and he grunted in frustration, putting his hands in his hair and gripping tight, not sure of where to go. He was about to start around for the third wall, but just as he rounded the corner he heard a promising clunk, followed by a screech of poorly-oiled metal grinding from behind him. He flung himself up against the wall and edged towards the corner, carefully leaning until he could just about see all along the back wall.

One person was pacing slowly, phone in one hand, e-cigarette in the other. They were gesticulating animatedly as they spoke, leading to a very interesting plume of vapour surrounding them as they moved. They had their back to him, so Shiro could not make out the conversation, but then they spun back towards him and he recognised them instantly as the bartender who’d been kind to him on his first night. Hope sprung anew.

“-finitely fed up with this, Tom, these shifts are miserable.”

A pause while the other end of the phone said something. The bartender took a long puff off their e-cigarette and blew an angry puff outwards.

“No, the money’s shit on these nights. Honestly, everyone here is dodgy as fuck and I hate it. Just because it costs the punter a bit more doesn’t mean it’s not the same type of cheap-arse twat. No tips, and they think just because I’m here I’m on the fucking menu and does my boss do anything about it? Does he bollocks. I just had some greasy fucking creep with the worst moustache I’ve ever seen in my entire life lick the back of my fucking hand when I was passing him his drink. I’m done with this fucking nonce breeding ground. Monthly’s the only reason I still work here, Tom. Totally different crowd. Amazing, the contrast between people just there to have a good time and literal fucking criminals.”

They took another drag of the e-cigarette, and Shiro was quickly piecing together his suspicions with what he was hearing. He’d not noticed an accent before - perhaps the in-club persona had been a little more neutral than this - but while he was missing out on some of the more colourful vocabulary, he definitely caught the gist of it.

“No Tom, it’s just a glorified knocking shop. A knocking shop with a stupidly over-the-top rooftop bdsm dungeon,” they stopped, as though interrupted, and Shiro heard a tinny squawk, even from there, “God, Tom, you need to get out more, it’s not _that_ weird. Certainly not worth this shit. If I didn’t like the monthly punters so much I swear I’d be gone long ago. That, and they let me work different floors depending on what day it is.”

The last comment was bewildering, until Shiro remembered when he’d first met them, and they’d mentioned being on the no-women floor on their boy days. Judging from their current clothing, and the absence of the shapely chest they’d been sporting the first night he met them, they were most certainly on the top floor today.

Bolstered by this, Shiro decided it was now or never - this person had been an ally on the first night, intuitive and kind, and nodded a greeting in passing on one or two of his other visits. This… was probably his only chance.

Slowly, so as not to alarm them, Shiro emerged from behind the corner and held his hands up in front of him in what he hoped was a placating gesture, internally braced to have to run, to jump at them and stop them from yelling, anything.

To the bartender’s credit, they only skipped a single beat before they blinked at him and then frowned, calculating.

“My break’s over, Tom, I gotta go. Yeah, yeah, love you both. See you home later.” They ended the call slowly and shoved the phone in their pocket. Fixing Shiro with an appraising stare, they gave a beckoning tilt of their head.

“Whatcha doing creeping around here, Kinky Gloves?”

Shiro stopped short. “Wha- Oh. Right. I’m looking for someone.”

“Two hundred dollar cover fee in cash out front, you can have anyone you like.”

That could have been interpreted multiple ways, but its blunt simplicity told Shiro all he needed to know.

“So this _is_ a brothel?”

He watched something sparkle in their eyes as they very clearly thought of a flippant comment and dismissed it.

“Yeah. It gets shined up once a month for people like you, that’s the legit end. Rest of the month, two days a week, it’s your common or garden edgelord brothel.”

“Is sex work legal in this state?” They gave him a pointed look. “Oh.”

The smile he received in response was sad, pitiful, like a parent spoiling a child’s innocent world view with the reality needed to survive. “The person you’re looking for. Client or collar?”

“Excuse me?”

“Paying customer?”

“Oh, nonono,” Shiro answered firmly. “I - they’ve been at the monthly events. I think they’re - well, I’m not sure, but I think they’re working here tonight, but I don’t think they understand it’s basically s- um…” He found he couldn’t get the word to form on his tongue.

Their eyes narrowed, lips pursed in thought. “Describe them.”

“Uh, a guy, college age, ’bout 6’1”, lanky, brown skin, blue eyes. Always a pet when he’s here.”

They sat up straighter at that, half-tilting their head. “…Whose?” they asked, the question hanging for a moment in the air before Shiro sighed.

“Zarkon,” he admitted.

“Thaaaaaaat’s what I thought. Amazing,” the bartender said, shaking their head with a disbelieving, wan smile. “Seven billion people on this planet, and here you go falling for a kid in a bdsm club with, like, the highest difficulty level possible. If you know Zarkon’s name, then you have to know he owns the place. And has scary friends.”

Shiro wasn’t so sure about the end of that statement, given Pidge’s research, but the first part had derailed his logical brain slightly.

“No, I’m not really - I’m just-“

He was stopped short by a piercing glare. “Don’t be a twat. You reckon he’s in trouble so you’re sneaking around the building trying to get in and pull him out of this bullshit, aren’t you?”

Shiro’s eyes flew open, his plan and heart laid bare. Denial was a powerful tool, moreso in combination with self-righteousness and it had been so easy to convince himself he was merely doing the right thing, not just going on a personal crusade because he cared for Lance a great deal more than he really ought to, given the sliver of history they had together.

“Yeah thought so,” the bartender said at Shiro’s silent acquiescence, huffing a small laugh despite the seriousness of the situation. “Did you even have any plans for how to pull this off?”

“…It basically amounted to ‘get inside, find Lance, take him home, punch people if necessary’.” At this, the bartender gave an exaggerated appraisal of Shiro’s physicality, and smirked.

“Yeah, I bet you will. Solid plan, by the way, until you bump into Zarkon, or Sendak. They’re usually carrying something. Those guns of yours faster than the real thing?”

“Sendak?” Shiro frowned. They’d said it like they’d mentioned Zarkon.

“Zarkon’s lapdog.”

Oh, _shit_.

“…I’m gonna guess you didn’t know that. You met Sendak before?”

“Just once.”

“That’s once more than necessary. Guy’s a genuine monster. He’s usually around somewhere, but Zarkon doesn’t like him around when he’s playing. No idea why. Anyway, this is by the by. Look, I’m a sucker for a good love story, and I’m done with being an accessory to the shit that goes on here, so listen.” They fished around in their pocket, a jangling following as they yanked out a set of keys. They fiddled with them for a moment, pulling off a purple key fob with a symbol Shiro recognised as being the Galra’s logo. “Here. This’ll get you in every door except the private playrooms - the keys to those are at reception but I’d avoid there if I were you. Zarkon’s on the top floor tonight, I think in the secondary room at the left end of the hall. You can use the fire escape - the fire doors are alarmed if they’re opened from the inside but there’s a reader on the outside of each door so you can open it from the outside. Just be careful - if you’re planning on leaving the same way, if you don’t use that to get back out again, the alarms will go and it’ll auto-summon the fire department .”

Shiro stared at the proffered key fob. “Are you sure? What if they find out it was you?”

They snorted. “Keys go missing all the time. I’m a nobody, and I’m about to move in with my boyfriends for good, so even if someone decided to come a-knocking, they’ll find an empty studio apartment.” They checked their watch. “Yeah, you better get going, loverboy. Good luck.”

There weren’t the words to describe his feelings, but Shiro felt his eyes sting as he struggled to find some. “Thank you,” he said after a spell, unable for more eloquence than that.

“No bother,” they answered, sticking out their hand. Shiro took it in his own, marvelling as he shook it at the sheer level of strength and confidence that came out of such a very tiny person. “Bobby.”

“Shiro.” He thought about Bobby, and realised it was a most useful name. “That’s… a good name,” he finished.

“Right? I picked it for that reason. Everyone on the internet who did the one name thing was all ‘Sam’ or ‘Alex’, if I had a penny for every genderfluid Alex I’ve come across. It’s nice, but I wanted to be a hipster about it. Stop dawdling, Shiro. Go get your guy.”

Nodding, Shiro spared Bobby one last grateful glance before he took off up the fire escape ladder.

 

The first thing Shiro noticed when he cracked open the fire escape door was the noise - usually at the Galra there were plenty of people just hanging around, drinking, watching, or playing non-sexually. However, the cacophony that greeted him now was pure debauchery; sweet sounds of agony. Put simply, it sounded like wall to wall fucking.

There were people _everywhere_ \- a totally different crowd, he understood now what Bobby had meant - the atmosphere was entirely different from the nights he’d attended - there was no mutual enjoyment, no leisure here, only the dogged pursuit of completion and the grunting of the physical labour involved. It was also much, much darker than usual - given the illegality, Shiro supposed the anonymity of low light helped.

Strangest of all - fully half the people around him, all easily coasting the youngest edge of adulthood, wore a utilitarian leather collar with a golden ring in front. Many were bound on the various pieces of equipment scattered about the rooms he passed, and the tone of the screams he heard was entirely different to usual. There was no enjoyment, and their expressions of pain sounded alarmingly honest.

_Client or collar._

The question had gone over his head when it had been asked, but Shiro understood now, and was horrified by the implication.

Zarkon hadn’t stopped anything - he’d just changed his trafficking method.

Carefully, Shiro skirted the edges of rooms, following Bobby’s directions to the far end of the corridor, trying not to be distracted by the growing sense of nausea. He felt smothered by what was happening around him, but it served to strengthen his mettle as his determination to rescue Lance - and yes, it was now a rescue, he could admit that to himself - grew steadily.

The last door was the only one with an RFID panel on the side, and Shiro knew he was in the right place - he lifted the key fob but then hesitated, realising that barging in without knowing who or what was on the other side was likely to get him in trouble, of Bobby’s mention of arms and Lance’s earlier mention of clients, plural, was any indication. Just then, Bobby’s warning that private playrooms were excluded from the key fob’s reach came back to him, and he realised it was a pointless gesture anyway. Glancing around to find the corridor devoid of people, he pressed his ear to the door, trying to discern what was happening inside.

He could hear several voices - unfamiliar, unintelligible murmuring, but then he made out Zarkon’s voice, too low to make out actual words but his pitch was unmistakeable. It was difficult to tell, but if Shiro had to guess, he thought Zarkon sounded gladdened, his usual smug arrogance turned up a notch. There were, however, no audible sounds of sex, and, most worryingly, nothing at all of Lance. It was entirely possible that Bobby was wrong, but, somehow, from their scant interactions, Shiro felt that was unlikely.

Pressed flat against the wall, Shiro could feel the sweat beading his brow as he listened, straining to hear anything beyond hushed amusement. He knew, however, from the differing timbre of voices that there were too many people for him to simply rush in and try to grab Lance - and there was no guarantee Lance was even present. Five minutes went past, ten, each glance at his watch only making him more impatient. He was steadily losing his control, the little voice at the back of his mind, amplified by worry over Lance’s wellbeing, started to nag at him and he started wondering if he should search elsewhere, when the door cracked open a little bit, and his entire being seized into hyperalertness. He dropped back against the wall, relieved of the floor layout as seven figures emerged into the hallway and passed him, barely grabbing his attention once he realised he did not have theirs as he concentrated on the room, though the thought did occur to him that seven was a grossly large number. God, he hoped they hadn’t…

Eventually, he started to be able to make out words.

“Worth every penny, Zarkon. Great. Just great.”

“Thank you, Alan. I’m very glad you enjoyed yourself.”

“I’d like to enjoy him a little more, if I can.”

Shiro felt a jolt run through him.

_Please…_

“That is a few pennies more, and certainly not tonight - he will be quite worn out. If you’ll excuse me, I must attend him. I’m sure you understand.”

Shiro grit his teeth, then heard a strange grinding noise - he was pulled out of his seething anger as he realised that the sound was his his metal fingers pushing into a fist tight enough to stress the surface of his palm, which whined in a buckling protest. Willing himself to stay calm, Shiro swallowed and shifted on the spot, taking a deep breath. Luckily, the sound had not carried.

“Of course,” came the voice Shiro did not know, drifting towards the door. A man stepped out and walked straight past him, an infuriatingly-blissful smile plastered on his face. Shiro stretched and wriggled his fingers so as to not damage his prosthetic hand further. As he stared at his palm he had the first inkling of an idea - it would probably only take one solid punch with his metal hand to stun Zarkon - the man had a size advantage but Shiro had the element of surprise and the readiness for a fight.

Bracing himself, he rose from his crouched position and started towards the door but Zarkon’s voice stopped him in dead in his tracks.

“Your desire is obvious.”

“So is yours, o grand master.” Sendak, mocking.

“I can sate mine whenever I want. This little sweetling is very obliging.”

Shiro felt his jaw jut out in rising rage.

“I wouldn’t really know about that, would I.”

Zarkon barked a laugh. “Oh come now, you’re not still angry over that?”

“Yeah I fucking am. You’ve been dangling your precious pet at me for weeks. I’m getting kinda tired of watching him suck you off, that little slut from the other week didn’t know what the fuck he was doing.”

By now, Shiro’s entire vision was clouded red, incandescent, bile roiling inside him.

“You should be happy with what you’re given,” Zarkon said in a warning tone that was an ice pick through Shiro’s burning fury.

“Yes, _sir_ ,” Sendak answered, mutinous, a whip-crack of danger in the air that Shiro felt all the way out in the hallway.

“Hmmmph,” Zarkon chuckled at last. “I would imagine he is quite a mess under there - get him cleaned up, and you can have your reward. Merry Christmas.”

The second-hand outrage took a backseat to the revelation that Lance was _there_ , he was right there, and there were only two people in his way.

“Thank you, sir.” Shiro could hear Sendak’s toothy smile from where he stood.

“Good. I’ll leave you to it. Be sure to tell him he did well, will you? He took to the v-bed better than a seasoned whore.”

“Of course.”

There were some heavy footsteps, and then Zarkon’s tall form strided past Shiro, fully-dressed - that was something, at least - and Shiro had to make the quickest, hardest decision of his life as he watched Zarkon’s broad shoulders retreat down the corridor - ultimately deciding that the goal was to keep Lance safe, and leaving Zarkon go left only one person between him and Lance’s safety.

Focusing himself, Shiro crept towards the half-open door, silent as he could. Painfully slowly, he edged his face around the door frame, ready to dart back but he was met with Sendak’s back as he stripped his jacket off. Now he was glad that he had decided against trying to take them both on - though shorter than Zarkon, Sendak shoulders were huge and criss-crossed with a thick leather holster. From this angle Shiro could not see if there was anything in it, but it seemed unlikely he’d sport an empty holster. For the first time, Shiro realised the very real danger he was in.

Lance lived with that danger _every single time_.

Sendak’s attention was entirely on a large black rectangle on the floor - at first Shiro paid it no heed, unsure of what it was, only taking in the shiny reflections of the few spotlights that provided the sole illumination in the room, until something _moved_ , and he realised he was looking at the most horrifying thing he could ever have imagined Lance being involved in. Chains, stocks, suspension - none of it compared to what lay in front of him.

Not in his wildest dreams had Shiro ever even heard of the device in the centre of the room - on top of a mattress sat a slightly translucent black sheet of something, probably latex, anchored by multiple points to a surrounding frame of metal bars. No, Shiro thought on reflection, it was two sheets - and sandwiched between them lay Lance, skinny limbs stark against the surface, glinting in the soft light. This wasn’t like the liquid latex stations that Shiro had seen dotted around the venue - a large pipe was connected to one corner, trailing off behind a closed door but Shiro could hear a faint humming as it continually worked to suction all of the air out from between the two latex screens. Lance was vacuum sealed inside, prone, knees at his sides and ass high in the air. He was squirming, albeit weakly.

Shiro wondered how long he’d been like this.

 _‘He took to the v-bed better than a seasoned whore’_.

Zarkon’s words came ringing back to him, and Shiro had a stark moment of clarity.

While Shiro looked on, Sendak lowered himself to kneel next to the vacuum bed. He reached out, meaty hand running lightly down Lance’s exposed spine, and it took everything Shiro had to keep still. There was little enough reaction from Lance, save for a minute flinch, which grew into a paltry wriggle as Sendak’s thick fingers crushed over the curve of his ass.

“A mess is right,” he purred in a voice so low Shiro actually shuddered. “I wonder if there’s more sweat or cum under there. You’re a sensitive little bitch; a vacbed is perfect for you. I lost count of how many times you’ve come already tonight, but I think you should have one more here, just you and me. A little come down,” he said, snorting at his own joke. “Bet that hole of yours is just dying for me by now,” he went on, brushing a thumb between Lance’s cheeks, pushing against the latex barrier. For the first time, Shiro actually heard a noise from Lance - a tiny, smothered sound of distress. “It’s been begging for me since that soft little loverboy cheated you out of having me, I know it.” His voice was deep and only getting crueller. “Bet it’s tight as anything right now.” There was a little click, and Shiro heard the distinct hum of a powerful vibrator start up.

Lance _screamed_.

Muted and broken though it was, it was enough to spur Shiro into action, weapon be damned. Almost on autopilot, Shiro flung the door back on its hinges, barely noting that there was a huge _bang_ as it slammed against the wall. Sendak jumped to his feet, whirling on the spot, hand automatically going for his holster but Shiro was faster - Sendak’s face met with a savage blow as Shiro struck him full-force with his right hand. Anger and desperation put sheer, raw power behind the punch and Shiro couldn’t tell if it was Sendak’s nose or cheek that made a sickening crack. The strengthened alloy of his knuckles split the larger man’s skin instantly, spurting blood before Shiro even had the chance to pull back. There was a horrible moment of stillness, then Sendak slumped awkwardly to the floor.

A moment passed. He did not get back up.

Shiro stepped over him, shoving him out of the way as he fell to the mattress underneath the vacuum bed.

“Lance? Lance it’s me, it’s Shiro!” He cried out, panting from the vast rush of adrenaline, looking to see a button or a gap, something he could use to get Lance out, but it seemed to be one smooth surface. He didn’t dare touch Lance - Shiro didn’t even know if Lance could hear him, let alone see him - but his fingers scrambled around the edge of the frame, trying to find a purchasable edgewithout success.

“Lance, I’m gonna get you out of this thing, okay? Sendak won’t hurt you I promise. I promise.” He looked from the edge to the centre and spotted a thick electrical cable coming from underneath - he gave it a rough yank and, with the screech of sticky tape, it came away and he was left kneeling holding an enormous wand vibrator. He had no time to dwell - any minute, Sendak could wake up, or someone could come by. He tossed it aside with a clatter and turned back to look at Lance. He felt his stomach twist.

Lance was not moving.

“Lance!” He called out, now too scared to respect personal space. He put his hand on Lance’s shoulder, expecting the same reaction Lance had had when Sendak had touched him but there was nothing - absolutely nothing. “Fuck, Lance, come on,” he pleaded, eventually giving up with a wretched roar. He dug his fingers into the latex, pushing hard, trying to weaken its surface, only now noticing just how mangled his prosthetic was - hitting Sendak had warped the metal to the point it was going to need to be sent away to be repaired. Shiro didn’t care - he just saw that the damage had raised a jagged edge along the knuckle line. He twisted his hand, using the serration to rip into the latex.

There was a whoosh as the air rushed in to correct the vacuum, and the _smell_ \- the most pungent cocktail of sweat and sex that Shiro had ever had the misfortune to experience burst forth and almost knocked him over. He kept going until he’d created a workable flap in one of the latex screens, ripping it backwards to reveal Lance, motionless and pale, like all the sun had been sucked from him. His eyes were lightly closed.

“Lance!” Shiro dove forward, turning Lance onto his back. Lance’s chest was burning hot but his arms were cold and he was _drenched_ with sweat, laying still in a puddle of it, mixed with the white of many spent pleasures. The smell was stomach-churning but Shiro barely noticed - all he could see was Lance not responding, not moving, not waking.

Not breathing.

Lance’s chest was completely still. Shiro felt desperately for a pulse, eventually finding a rapid, feeble thrumming, but nothing else. For a moment, his vision swam, fear and indecision stalling him from action. He looked around, panic rising, to the point that he could hear his own ragged breaths.

His own breathing, so loud, next to _nothing_ …

Like a bolt from the blue, Shiro suddenly knew what to do. He surged forward and threw himself down on Lance, seizing his chin and tilting his head back. He sealed his lips across Lance’s and blew hard, drawing back. No change. He repeated the action, letting a curse slip as he bent a third time.

This time, however, Lance gave a dry gasp and a hacking cough, eyes flying open, sightless and wide. “Lance!” Shiro pulled him up into his chest, wrapping his arms around Lance’s thin shoulders. “Oh god, it’s okay, it’s me, it’s Shiro. I’m here.”

Lance spluttered against Shiro, trembling as his body tried to make up for lack of air all at once. He stared outward, unseeing.

“Lance? Can you hear me? Do you know where you are?”

If Lance heard him, he gave no indication. Shiro frowned.

“Lance.” He stroked the top of Lance’s hair, smoothing back the strands plastered to his face. Babbling though he was, he chose his tense carefully. “You’re okay, you’re okay, I’m with you, I’m getting you out of here, okay? You’re alright, you’re alright.” There was violence in the way Lance’s chest heaved, and Shiro could feel his heartbeat under his hands, frantically rushing to get blood around his oxygen-starved body. “I’m with you, Lance. I’m here. We’re here together.”

Lance’s eyes seemed to brighten a little at that. He lifted his head slightly, tilting his face towards Shiro, though he still gave little indication of being anywhere near the same plane of existence as Shiro. “You’re so brave, Lance,” Shiro cooed. “It shouldn’t be like this. It won’t be like this, I promise.”

At first, when Lance spoke, Shiro heard no sound, but he recognised the airless shape of his own name on peeling lips, and he could have picked Lance up and marched triumphantly around the room. “Yes, Lance, it’s me, it’s Shiro, I’m here!”

This time, Lance was able to push audible words out, cracked though his voice was, roughened by what could only have been far too long screaming. “We’ve… gotta… stop… meeting like this…” he whispered, speech slurred and so quiet that Shiro had to strain to hear, so there was a brief delay in the words penetrating.

It took a moment for Shiro to remember where he was as he barked a wired laugh, hugging Lance tighter. They stayed that way for a moment, Lance cradled carefully in Shiro’s embrace. It took noticing Sendak, still out cold, over Lance’s shoulder to break the spell somewhat.

“Okay, Lance, we’re gonna get out of here, okay?” A tiny nod. “Do you know where your clothes are?”

There was an awkward silence before Lance gave the slightest shake of his head.

“Okay, don’t worry, it’s fine, it’ll be fine, okay? You can have my coat.” He loosened his grip and moved to let Lance go, but Lance grabbed his arms in a vice, in sharp contrast with his weakness.

“N-no…”

For a second, Shiro was confused, wondering why Lance would reject his coat but then he realised it was probably that Lance didn’t want him to let him go. “Sssssh,” he soothed. “Just for a second so I can take my coat off. I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I promise, Lance.”

Lance’s fingertips dug painfully into his skin and were beginning to sting when they abruptly slackened and his weight grew heavy in Shiro’s lap. His eyes slid closed, and Shiro cursed. A few further calls of Lance’s name showed him to be unresponsive once more. Checking to make sure Lance was still breathing, Shiro reached one hand around to his back pocket and pulled out his phone. His own hand shook as he unlocked and dialled, the call connecting instantly.

“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”

“I need help, I need an ambulance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience in waiting.  
> Thanks to the lovely [Cosu](http://hardlynotnever.tumblr.com) for the gorgeous vacbed pieces!  
> Thanks to [fayheyhey](http://fayheyhey.tumblr.com) for the super sad Shiro holding Lance at the end there  
> Thanks a bajillion to the always amazing jaspurrlock for this i n c r e d i b l e art of [Zarkon and Lance](http://jaspurrlock.tumblr.com/post/156283468322/some-art-inspired-by-the-scorchingly-hot-fic)  
> Thank you also to the wonderful biantrek for this outstanding fanart of [Lance and Shiro](https://biantrek.tumblr.com/post/160222454848/good-boys-bad-boys-fanart-of-jennypen-s)  
> I couldn't be more blessed if I tried - getting fanart of fic I write is just a fevered dream and I can't believe it when it happens, it feels so good to be linking it here!  
> EDIT: just to note because a few people have asked me - vacbeds are, like anything to do with BDSM, safe as anything when used safely, sanely and with consent - all three elements were missing here. They do have provisions for breathing - a later chapter will explain exactly what happened with Lance :)

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me (I like yelling back let's all yell together) on [tumblr](http://jennypen.tumblr.com)/[twitter](http://www.twitter.com/supergayjen).


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